


Voices

by grey853



Category: due South
Genre: Adult Content, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray hears a voice that changes his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voices

**Voices**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Voices)

* * *

Fraser's voice, Ray's head, not a good mix and Ray couldn't do a damn thing about it. 

Ray lay back, squeezing his eyes shut, listening to the hushed tones of his partner's voice saying words that Ray knew he'd never hear from the sweet lips of his Mountie partner. He swam in words he whispered to himself, using Fraser's voice, the voice of a man he worked with, made friends with, fought like hell with. 

Fraser whispered coarse words, sexy words, words like, "Suck me, Ray,", "Fuck me, Ray,", "Come for me, Ray," over and over. His voice in Ray's head and Ray's hand on his own dick made it all happen. Whimpering, Ray did what his voice told him, the images bittersweet, his legs trembling, sweat rolling down his face, his cock twitching with release and pleasure. 

Afterwards, Ray lay in the dark, ashamed and shaking, wondering when the hell it all happened, when Fraser's voice replaced Stella's, when Ray Kowalski got hard just listening to his partner's voice in his head. 

Then it got worse. The voice started going with him out of the bedroom, into the station, onto the street, stayed with him all day long. The voice never let up, talked to him when he least expected. It made him smile or snort when the world around him just stared and wondered what the hell was up with that freak Kowalski. Only they didn't call him Kowalski. They called him Vecchio, Detective Ray Vecchio, a guy he didn't even look like, didn't act like, never wanted to come back. 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray..." 

Shaking his head, Ray turned and stared at Fraser, settling back to the moment. "What?" 

"Are you all right?" 

They walked through the warehouse side by side, Diefenbaker at Fraser's heels. "I'm fine, why?" 

"You seem distracted." 

"Distracted? Naw, just thinking." 

"About the case?" 

Ray didn't meet his eyes, couldn't take the chance, not with a sharp guy like Fraser. His partner knew him all too well to miss lies when he looked close enough. And that was the thing, the thing that worried Ray the most, the way Fraser always looked, always checked him out. Case or no case, it didn't matter. Fraser kept his eye on Ray whenever they were together and that's when the voice teased him the worst. 

Scratching his head, Ray tried to focus, tried to make sure he didn't trip over his own two feet as he avoided like hell all the concerned glances. "Yeah, I was thinking Macklin might be the ring leader. Johnson couldn't do anything like this on his own, especially something this organized. The guy's not the brightest bulb in the pack." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Sure I'm sure. Did you hear Johnson talk? Guy's a few steps short of a full Cha Cha." 

"I'm not talking about the case, Ray. I'm asking if you're sure you're all right." 

Ray didn't stop walking, spying the door to Macklin's office just ahead. "I'm fine, Fraser. Just got a lot on my plate, that's all." 

"You know you can talk to me if there's something troubling you, Ray. I find it sometimes helps to discuss difficult situations." 

"I feel like talking, I'll let you know. Meanwhile, let's drop it." 

"As you wish, Ray." 

Ray knocked and waited a couple of seconds before banging his fist a few more times against the glass. A burly man about six foot five finally opened the door and snapped, "Yeah?" 

Ray held up his badge. "Chicago PD. We're here to see Macklin." 

"You got an appointment?" 

Snorting, Ray shoved his badge at the guy's face. "Sure do. Look closer. Check it out, right where it says, 'I'm a cop,' in big, fat, easy-to-read letters." 

Pushed backward, the larger man stepped out of the doorway, but crossed his arms as he refused to budge an inch further. Ray knew without the badge, he'd be trading shots with a guy who outweighed him by a good hundred pounds of solid, hurt like hell muscle. The voice in his head said to calm down, to take it easy, don't pick a fight. They were just there to talk to Macklin, not arrest him. Ray glanced sideways at Fraser who stood calmly beside him, watching his every move, the observation subtle, but steady. It made him twitchy to know that the voice in his head talked reason during the day and lowdown dirty at night. He didn't know how to take it sometimes, most times, anytime. 

Ray blinked to focus, to keep his mind on track and on the job. "So, Macklin around?" 

"He's in the back." 

"Get him. Tell him it's either here or we'll haul his ass down to the station." 

Burly guy didn't look happy. "You pigs got no right to hassle the boss. He ain't done nothin' wrong." 

"Then he won't have a problem. Get his ass out here." 

Reluctantly, the guy left and Ray stood there dancing foot to foot, suddenly uneasy. With the voice in his head, he found it even harder to talk to the real Fraser. 

"Ray, perhaps we should tread a bit more lightly when we talk to Mr. Macklin. By all accounts, he's got a temper shorter than yours and we've got no proof that he's directly involved." 

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I've got a short fuse?" 

"I'm just suggesting that we try to get the information without having to resort to threats of physical violence." 

Before Ray could argue, Macklin walked in the room, his shoulders back and his mouth tight. In his late forties, dark hair and eyes, the guy stood tough, not missing a thing. He checked out Fraser first. "You the Mountie?" 

"Yes, I'm Constable Ben Fraser of the Canadian Royal Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's..." 

"Nice dog." 

Fraser smiled and tugged at his ear, ignoring the abrupt interruption. "Actually, he's a wolf." 

"Yeah? Never seen a wolf in Chicago outside the zoo." 

Diefenbaker growled deep in his throat and Fraser shushed him with a pat to his head. "I'm sorry. He's rather sensitive about that subject." 

Macklin frowned, but didn't bother to say anything about the nutty guy in the Stetson. He turned his attention to Ray instead. "I've heard about you two, you and your partner here, Vecchio. Hear you're looking for the guy who's torchin' the warehouses." Then his voice tightened, got angry. "What do you want from me? I got nothing to do with that shit." 

"But you know people who might." 

"Who says? That's bullshit." 

"Your man Johnson's been seen at the last two crime scenes." 

"Toby Johnson? A firebug? Forget about it. The guy's got the mind of a cream puff. Sure, he's good muscle, but nothing upstairs, if you know what I'm saying." 

"It doesn't take much of a brain to light a match, Macklin." 

Macklin stepped behind his desk and sat down. "Look, Johnson's on my payroll because I owe his old man a favor from way back. You think he's good for the torch jobs, arrest him, but you'll be wasting your time. He's just a kid in a man's body. Hell, he probably followed the fire trucks thinking there was a parade with clowns and cute little puppies." Macklin hesitated and then leaned forward on his desk, his hands together, his voice a bit lower. "Look, you didn't hear this from me, Vecchio, but you might want to look closer to home, like at someone who has ties to the buildings." 

"We're looking into that, the owners and the insurance claims, but I doubt any of those guys actually started the fires. They're not that stupid." 

"You mean not stupid enough to get their own hands dirty, to shop it out? Yeah, maybe, but maybe if you look hard enough, you might find out that there's someone in the woodpile who likes to burn shit, even since he was a kid maybe." Macklin stood up, both his hands raised. "I'm not saying nothing else. Don't ask." He stared directly at Ray. "We done?" 

Ray and Fraser exchanged quick glances and then Ray nodded. "Sure, for now." 

"Look, Detective. I'm not in this. I got nothing to do with burning down buildings. Ask around. It's not my style. I got a beef, I bang heads, not this burning the place down shit. That's just being a pussy. I'm outta here." 

Before the guy could walk away, Ray added, "Keep Johnson on a tighter leash, Macklin. If there's another fire, I don't want to see his ugly mug in the crowd." 

Macklin nodded. "See yourselves out." 

Ray turned to leave and the voice in his head told him Macklin wasn't lying, that he'd missed something important about the investigation. As they walked out, Fraser spoke quietly and repeated the words he'd just heard. Ray stopped, seriously spooked, his skin icy. "What?" 

"I said, I think Macklin's telling the truth. We've missed something in the investigation. We need to go back over the reports and interviews." 

Ray swallowed hard, his hands suddenly shaky. "That's what I thought you said." 

"What's wrong? You look pale." 

Sighing, Ray rubbed his forehead and walked on. "Just got a headache." 

"It's late and we haven't had lunch." The voice in his head wanted Chinese. Fraser suggested Chinese. Ray decided he needed to sit down in a hurry. 

* * *

Ray dipped his egg roll in the sweet and sour and took a bite. He glanced up to find his partner staring. "What? I drip sauce on my chin?" 

"No, there's no sauce." 

"Got rice in my teeth?" 

Fraser shook his head and leaned in, his voice unusually soft. "Your teeth are fine, Ray. I'm just trying to figure out how to broach a rather sensitive subject." 

Shit. Here it came. Ray sat back, his appetite gone, the voice in his head suddenly still, right when he could've used some clever Mountie-like assistance. "All right, spill it. You've been walking on eggshells long enough." 

"Eggshells?" 

"Yeah, you know, being careful and extra polite even for you. So, what's up? What's going on?" 

"Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you. You've been rather peculiar the last few weeks." 

"Peculiar? Jeez, Fraser, that's rich coming from you." 

Fraser smiled and sat back. "Quite true, Ray. However, there's peculiar as in simply being eccentric based on norms of a particular culture, and then there's peculiar as in when someone, someone like yourself, for example, deviates from his normal behavior." 

"And you're saying I've done that? Deviated?" 

"I'm afraid so, yes." 

Frowning, Ray didn't really want to hear it, but he asked anyway. "Like how?" 

"Well, apparently, when I'm not around, you seem to be talking to yourself rather frequently." 

Ray shook his head and fumed. "Fuck Dewey." 

"Language, Ray." 

Ray threw his napkin on the table, the wheels turning fast to try to explain something he really couldn't explain easily. "Look, it's nothing. Dewey walked in on me when I was trying to work something out. It's no big deal." 

"According to Francesca and Lt. Welsh, it's not an isolated incident." 

Stunned, Ray met concerned blue eyes. "You're saying the Lieutenant talked to you about me, about me talking to myself?" 

"He's concerned, Ray, as are the others. It's not like you." 

Suddenly defensive, he snapped, "You talk to a deaf wolf. Nobody makes a big deal about that." 

"We're not talking about me, Ray." 

"Maybe we should be." 

"Maybe later we will. Ray, I'm not trying to criticize. I'm just worried that I'm failing you as a partner." 

Startled, Ray shook his head in denial. "You're not. Don't even think that." 

"How can I not think that if you won't confide in me when you're obviously troubled?" 

"Just trust me, you're a great partner, the best I ever had." 

"Thank you kindly, Ray. That means a lot to me. I think you're a wonderful partner as well." 

"Thanks, Fraser." Ray picked at the edge of the table cloth. "So, the Lieutenant really talked to you about me?" 

"He and several others, yes." 

"They think I'm nuts?" 

"Not nuts, no." 

"Come on, Fraser, be honest. They think I'm losing it, going 'round the bend, headed straight to the funny farm. What did the Lieutenant say?" 

"He wanted to know if I was aware of any undue pressure you might be under, something that might have happened recently." 

"And what you'd say?" 

"I said I didn't know of anything other than the usual arduous demands of the job. I didn't mention that I had noticed your increased anxiety and distraction of late." 

Closing his eyes, Ray pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've had a lot of things on my mind." 

"Like what?" 

"It's personal." 

"I see." 

The cool tone hit like a brick to the gut. Ray lifted his head and saw the hurt, a sober, too tight look he hated. "It's not you, Fraser. It's me. It's stuff I have to work out on my own. It's not that I don't trust you." 

"You can trust me with anything, Ray. I hope you know that." 

"I do." 

"Then why the secret?" 

"You don't have secrets?" 

Grudgingly, Fraser confessed. "A few." 

"You want to share?" 

"Not particularly, but I will if you need me to." 

"But, see, I don't want that. We all need space, Fraser, privacy, even when it comes to our best friends. Sometimes we just have to hang tight and work things out for ourselves." 

"Perhaps, but I can't help but be concerned. Just tell me what's wrong." 

Ray pushed his plate away and put his elbows on the table, his hands up in front of his face. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "I can't. Don't ask me." 

Grudgingly, Fraser nodded. "Very well. However, if you can't confide in me, perhaps you should consider a professional." 

"A professional what?" 

Fraser used that slow, patient tone that got Ray's goat whenever he used it, like he was an idiot or something. "A professional counselor, Ray." 

"You mean a shrink, a head jockey, someone to mess with my head? I'm not nuts, Fraser. Don't even go there." 

"I'm not suggesting you are, Ray, but you said yourself you're troubled. Being a police officer requires strict concentration. Being distracted as you've been the last few weeks, well, quite frankly, can be dangerous." 

"You saying you don't trust me to watch your back? You think I'm off my rocker enough to make me unfit for duty?" 

"Not at all, Ray. I'm just saying I worry about you getting hurt when your usual keen attention to detail might be focused elsewhere." 

"That's not going to happen." 

"It could." 

"It won't." Suddenly angry, even more stubborn, Ray stood up and grabbed the check. "Enough of this shit. Let's go. I've got to chase down some more records about those buildings. Plus, the paperwork's probably back on that last fire." 

Fraser stood up and picked up his hat. "I didn't mean to make you angry, Ray. I'm just trying to help." 

"I know that. Now shut up." 

"Understood." 

Ray had to close his eyes when the voice in his head started laughing so fucking loud it made his head ache. 

* * *

The six-pack didn't help at all, not even a little bit, so Ray decided to try whiskey. It only made the world spin and Fraser's voice too damn fussy. Fuck that. 

Ray rolled over on the bed and tried to clear his head, not easy to do with a fifth of Jim Beam in his system. He slid his hand down past the elastic band of his shorts, rubbing himself hard. He worked his own dick, his thumb teasing the tip just the way he liked it. He thought back to being a kid, how he used to think about Stella and get off, how it was always Stella, well, except for Steve McQueen sometimes. That didn't make him queer, not really queer, not just thinking about it. 

Back then, he watched BULLET and THE GREAT ESCAPE and got horny as hell, all hot and slick, able to get off over and over. In his room, he heard Steve's voice telling him to do things, to get naked and spread his legs. That tough guy's mouth took him all the way in, sucked him dry, and then did it again for good measure. He came four or five times an hour as a teenager. Those were the days, those were the times when he could stay in a constant state of sexual frenzy and not worry about why dreams about one person made him hard and another didn't. 

Sighing deeply, Ray recalled how much he got off on thinking about a hot, young Steve McQueen in tight jeans. He'd play it in his head like a movie, Steve spotting him at a distance, wanting him, pulling him into a dark alley before bending him over the still warm hood of a shiny, black Mustang and making the whole world explode into a bright light that heated his skin and made his dick hurt with coming. 

Groaning to himself, Ray forgot about Steve of his early years and heard the persuasive call of Fraser's husky voice instead. In his dreams Fraser used his wet tongue to lick more than boots, used his mouth to kiss him, slick down his skin, suckle his tits until Ray whimpered. Strong hands explored all over, his face, his belly, his ass, his long legs. Ray's own hands did the work, but Fraser's voice, the sweet hum, the purr of the words made his head flash like lightning, twisting his world, sliding him into a delicious flame. Ray dropped off as Fraser sang in his head, told him how much he loved him, wanted him, would never let him be lonely again. 

* * *

Ray woke up with a killer headache and Benton Fraser pounding relentlessly on his front door. Fuck the world in general and Canada in particular. 

Ray lifted his head and groaned. No way could it be time to get up, no way in hell did he oversleep when he had interviews to do over. Fuck. 

Sitting up slowly, Fraser's fist still banging at the door, Ray grabbed his dirty jeans. He pulled them on commando style and then stumbled out to stop all the racket. 

"Fuck, Fraser, cut it out already." 

Hand still in mid air, Fraser smiled that great Mountie smile, the one Ray usually liked seeing. "Good morning, Ray." 

Ray couldn't bear to look. He held his aching head and made it to the sofa and covered his face with both hands as he leaned forward. Shit, shit, shit, he never wanted Fraser to see him so fucked up, so hung over, so fucking guilty. At least for once Fraser didn't have the wolf along to play witness. 

"Ray?" 

"What time is it?" 

"It's after nine. I tried calling." 

"Phone's on the blink. I haven't had it fixed yet." 

"And your cell phone?" 

"Battery's dead." 

"I see." 

"I need a shower and I'll get dressed. Fix some coffee or tea or something. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes." 

Fraser stepped closer, hat in hand as he picked up the empty bottle off the coffee table and then put it back down. He spoke softly, more with concern than disapproval. "Are you sober?" 

"Yeah, hung over, but sober." 

"Does this behavior have anything to do with what we discussed yesterday?" 

"Things haven't changed, Fraser. I still don't want to talk about it." 

"That's your right, Ray, but it's been my experience that drinking never solves problems, but can certainly compound them." 

Suddenly angry, pissed as hell, Ray snapped, "And how the fuck would you know? You don't even drink, not even a beer. Don't start with me about this, Fraser. It's not your life. It's my life, my life, you got that?" 

Calm as ever, Fraser kept his eyes trained on Ray. "But it doesn't help, Ray. I think you know that." 

Ray sighed, wanting like hell to shout the house down, to punch someone's face in, but he couldn't, not when the man he loved stood staring at him like he'd just shot his beloved Dief in the head. He swallowed hard and prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself. "I know that. I know that, Fraser. I just didn't know what else to do." 

"You can talk to me." 

"I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you're part of the problem." 

Fraser snapped straight up, stood ramrod stiff like he'd been sucker punched by his best friend and good buddy. "What?" 

"I don't mean it like that. It's nothing you've done. It's not your fault. I'm not saying that." 

"What are you saying exactly?" 

Shaking, Ray stood up and wrapped his arms around his bare chest as he moved a few steps away. "You ever been around somebody who makes you feel, I don't know, different?" 

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Ray? Different in what way?" 

"Better, stronger, like you're worth more than you thought." 

"You mean someone who brings out your good qualities?" 

"Yeah, someone who says all the right things, does all the right stuff. Somebody you think about all the time, somebody you can't get out of your head." 

Fraser stepped closer, the gap between them only a few inches. "Ray, what are you talking about?" 

"I'm talking about you, about how you make me feel about me." 

"I see. I make you feel better about yourself?" 

"Yeah." 

"And you think about me all the time?" 

Ray turned away, his back to Fraser, unable to say what he had to say and still look him in the eye. "I've been thinking stuff, stuff I used to think about when I was a kid, but left behind when I hooked up with Stella. But now, I can't help it. It's like I'm obsessed or something." 

"Obsessed with me?" 

"Sort of." 

"And this obsession disturbs you enough to get intoxicated?" 

"I thought it might help, but you're right. It only makes me feel like shit the next day for being such an asshole the night before. It doesn't change anything, doesn't make it easier to deal with." 

Fraser touched his shoulder and Ray jerked away, moving to the other side of the room. "Don't do that." 

"I'm sorry." 

"It's not you. I'm just fucked up right now. I need to figure this out and I can't do that with you in my head all the time." 

"I'm in your head?" 

"Your voice, all the time, talking. Telling me stuff." 

Fraser stayed in place, but he never took his eyes off Ray. "What do I say?" 

"Well, you don't, Fraser. That's the point. It's not you, I know that. I haven't lost my mind completely." 

"Then what is it you think I'm saying?" 

"Nothing. It's not you." 

"Ray, please. I'm trying to understand. You're not making this easy." 

Sitting down on the sofa again, exhausted, his head pounding, Ray fought down the nausea of a prizewinning, shitty morning after. "Look, I still haven't worked out how I feel about what I'm feeling." 

Fraser's eyes opened a little wider as he took the chair beside Ray. "Ray, I may have a hole in my bag of marbles, but it seems to me you're saying you're having trouble dealing with a sexual attraction to me. Is that what this is about, you're confused about your sexual identity?" 

Startled, Ray glanced up, his heart sick, his head spinning. "You got that from what I was saying, huh?" 

"I think so, yes." 

Still cagey, still not able to say it out loud, Ray hedged. "And how would you feel about that, me being obsessed with you that way, not as a buddy, but something way different?" 

Fraser didn't even flinch, didn't look away. "Are you?" 

"You answer first." 

"I'd be flattered." 

"And?" 

"And what, Ray?" 

"You going to make me say it?" 

Fraser leaned in, his voice soft and husky. "I'm afraid so, Ray. I don't want any misunderstandings between us about what it is you're feeling." 

Swallowing glass would've been easier, would've been less scary. "I think I'm in love with you." 

"You think?" 

Ray gave up and confessed. "I'm in love with you." 

"Good." 

"Good?" 

"It's about time you realized it." 

Ray shook his head in stunned amazement at the cocky arrogance of the man who licked his lips like he just found a bright red box of free candy. "What? You knew?" 

"I suspected." 

"You didn't say anything?" 

"Well, as you know, Ray, suspecting isn't the same as knowing." 

"But you know now." 

"Yes, and it's only fair that you know that the feeling is mutual." 

"I don't believe this." 

"Oh, it's true, Ray." 

"But..." 

"But what?" 

"Why didn't you say something?" 

"Why didn't you?" 

"I was confused." 

"Exactly." 

"You knew that, too?" 

Fraser still didn't touch him, but he never let his gaze falter. "I knew you wanted me. I could tell that much, but I could also see quite clearly that the idea of being with me bothered you a great deal. Then you started acting so strangely and I became concerned that your struggle to come to terms with your shifting sexual preference might lead to some serious problems." 

The light dawned. "So that's why you've been coming around more, keeping an eye on me. You thought I'd cracked under the strain of thinking that I might have a thing for a man after I'd only been with women." 

"I feared that might be the case, yes." 

"I didn't crack, well, only a little bit. It just sort of hit me, this thing I had, this voice out of nowhere." 

"Voice?" 

"Your voice. You kept showing up at night, talking, whispering sweet nothings, telling me to do stuff." 

"Do stuff? What stuff are you talking about, Ray?" 

Ray flushed deeply and then leaned in, finally brave enough to say it. "I got off thinking about you. I felt ashamed because the next day I'd be standing there talking to you like nothing changed, but in my head your voice kept teasing and I was seeing these pictures of you naked and feeling these sensations, good feelings I'd forgotten about." 

"Were you ashamed because your feelings were directed towards me and not a woman?" 

"No, I felt guilty because it was like I was using you without permission." 

"Ah." 

"Don't ah me right now, Fraser. Just tell me what you're really thinking." 

Fraser came closer and ran the back of his hand up Ray's cheek, the touch electric. Ray shivered. "You have my permission to think about me all you want. It's only fair since I've been thinking about you the same way for months now." 

Ray studied those dark blue, hungry eyes, his throat dry, his stomach knotted. "You have? You've been thinking about me like that?" 

"I understand about guilt and obsession, Ray, believe me." Before Ray could muster up an answer, Fraser leaned in and kissed him, just briefly at first, just a taste before he pulled back. Fraser whispered, "You call me Ben in my head and I like that." 

"Ben?" Ray smiled, relieved Fraser wasn't pissed as hell for having a queer partner. "Good name. I like it." 

"I'm tired of living in my head, Ray." 

"Me, too." 

"Any suggestions?" 

"I stink. Let me get a shower and we can talk about it." 

Fraser shook his head, smiling, his eyes dark with desire. "Talking is not what I had in mind." 

Once again, his partner leaned in and captured his mouth, his tongue possessive. Slick and hot, the kiss lasted long enough for Ray to come up sputtering. "Jesus. You really want this." 

"I've been patient a long time, Ray. I wanted you to figure it out on your own. It hasn't been easy." 

"Sorry. I'm slow sometimes." 

"Then let's make up for lost time and move this to the bedroom." 

"What about work?" 

"We'll work through lunch to make up for the lost time." 

Ray's lips thinned into a grin. "I like the way you think, Ben." 

Ben didn't answer, just stood with a quick smile and brought Ray to his feet, leading him to the bedroom. The voice in his head went silent, giving in to the real voice of the man right beside him, the man he hoped stayed there forever. 

* * *

Ray expected forceful and got giving, expected demanding and got yielding. In fact, Ben didn't make love anything at all like Ray expected. 

Of course, it might all be different later on, different if either of them lasted more than five minutes after stripping off and going at it liked two men starved for touch for years too long. Trapped beneath the dead weight of his partner, Ray gasped for air, his lungs burning. "Jesus." 

Ben managed a weak, "Dear Lord," and lay limp, his eyes closed and his breathing still too ragged to do much good for his brain. 

After a few more moments, Ray chuckled as he lifted his hips and shoved Ben off and over onto his back. He climbed on and straddled Ben's hips. He palmed his lover's chest and then leaned down for a quick kiss. "It's good to know." 

"What?" 

"That you get off faster than you drive my car." 

Ben flushed a bright pink color and captured Ray's hands. "I apologize. I don't usually reach completion that quickly. I've just been ..." 

"Horny as hell?" 

"I was going to say sexually frustrated." 

"Horny." 

"Tense." 

"Horny." 

"On edge." 

Ray leaned forward and kissed him, repeating stubbornly, "Horny." 

"All right, all right, have it your way, horny." 

"Thank you." 

Ben met his gaze, wrapped his arms around him to draw him closer, chest to chest. "I love you very much, Ray. I had hoped our first time would be a bit more romantic." 

"Romantic?" 

"Yes. A quick release and then off to work isn't exactly the scenario I'd envisioned." 

"Look, I know it's not hearts and flowers, but I love you, too, and that other stuff we can do later, whenever we want." 

"I know that. It's just that the first time should be special. I've failed to manage that because of my impatience." 

"You weren't jerking off alone here, Ben. I was humping away the same as you. I wanted it fast." Ray's voice softened. "I needed it. You didn't fail at anything. If someone failed, it was me. I should've been upfront and honest, but this was all a big whatdoyoucallit?" 

"A revelation?" 

"Yeah, and a surprise. I've never been attracted to a real guy before." 

"Real guy?" 

"Well, I really don't count Steve McQueen. I mean, you don't hold teenage crushes against a person, right?" 

"I wouldn't count any former attractions against you, Ray." 

"I know, I know, but you're open-minded. I couldn't tell anybody else I got hot over a guy, not even a guy like McQueen. Fuck, especially not a guy like McQueen, and especially not to Stella. She wouldn't understand. So, who was I going to tell? It's not like I got a whole bunch of people lined up to talk to about who I want to be with." 

"Steve McQueen was very handsome." 

"Yeah, and did I mention hot?" 

Ben raised a hand and tenderly touched Ray's hair, fingering it as his voice got dreamy. "He had that rather rebellious quality one often finds very attractive." 

"You liked him, too, huh?" 

"Actually, I'm attracted to rebellious American blonds." 

"Yeah?" 

"Most definitely." 

Ray dipped his head and kissed him before teasing. "You've got a rebellious, wild side yourself, Ben." 

Ben suddenly stopped playing with Ray's hair as his expression darkened. "I'm afraid that's quite true, Ray. It's something I've worked hard to overcome." 

"Then quit it." Cupping Ben's face, Ray grinned. "I like it." 

Instead of smiling back, Ben shook his head. "You don't understand." 

"Understand what?" 

"That part of me scares me." 

"Why?" 

"Because sometimes I can't control it. Sometimes I do things that I'm ashamed of afterwards." 

Frowning, Ray straightened up and then rolled off, pulling the sheet up over him as he leaned back against the headboard. He crossed his arms tightly around his chest, wanting it over fast, wham, bam, thank you, Ray, we're all done now. He cleared his throat to find the strength, to be ready if the words came back wrong. "Like now? You ashamed of letting go right now, cutting loose with me? You sorry we did this?" 

Fraser sat up and scooted closer, his voice a hush. "Not at all. That's not what I'm saying, Ray." 

Relieved, but still confused, Ray pushed harder. "Then what are you saying?" 

"I'm saying that sometimes it's difficult for me to control myself once I allow myself to stop resisting my impulses." 

"Well, fuck, Ben, we all feel that way." 

"But we all don't betray our partners or almost run off with murderers." 

Ray met worried eyes and shook his head in bewilderment. "Now you've lost me." 

"You've read my files, Ray. You know about Victoria Metcalfe." 

"Yeah, and that Vecchio shot you by mistake when he was trying to stop her from shooting you." 

"She was unarmed. I was leaving with her." 

"What?" 

"I said..." 

"I heard what you said." Mouth dry, Ray tired to figure out the heart of the puzzle. "And Vecchio shot you to keep you from leaving?" 

"No, he sincerely thought she was a danger, and she was, but not because she was going to shoot me, but because I lost all reason. I would've betrayed everyone, every allegiance, to be with her." 

"And you think you've lost reason with me?" 

"No, but I could." 

Ray squeezed his eyes shut briefly and prayed for more patience. "Look, first off, reason's not all it's cracked up to be. And second, fuck that." Ray grabbed Ben's face and kissed him hard, his tongue exploring, his cock waking up for an encore. He forced himself to stop and pull back. "What I'm saying is, be as wild as you want. It's good to let go, to take what you want. I'm all up for wild. I can handle anything you want to try out." 

"But what if..." 

"What if what?" 

Ben swallowed hard, the words difficult as he met Ray's stare. "What if I hurt you?" 

"You won't, not if you're honest and don't pull any more Mountie mindfucks." 

"Mountie mind whats?" 

"Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about." 

"I assure you, Ray, I really don't." 

"Yeah? You telling me this whole time you were getting off thinking about me, knowing I was having the same problem, you didn't step a little closer, touch me more often and a lot longer than you had to?" 

Ben cleared his throat, suddenly uneasy. "I didn't mean to manipulate you, Ray. I just thought perhaps a little nudging might help ease you in the right direction." 

Ray laughed out loud and then smacked Ben's cheek affectionately. "Right direction works for me, but next time, I plan to call your ass on it. No more messing with my head. You think I need to deal with something, say it directly." 

Slipping his hand down under the sheet, Ben found Ray's new erection. Hissing at the touch, Ray dropped his head back and complained, "Stop. We don't have time." 

"But we should deal with this directly, Ray. You said so." Ben stroked his cock, the heat blocking all coherent thought, any resistance. 

Ray thrust into his hand. "You prick, you asshole. That's not what I meant." The words came out raw and breathy. 

Before any more complaints, Ben lifted the sheet and replaced his hand with his mouth, Ray's dick slipping between his lips. Ben's tongue helped control the pressure as he bobbed his head. Only a few thrusts later, Ray broke his own speed record as he came even faster than before, his body shaking all over. Ben kept at it, kept sucking and Ray whimpered, the electric aftershocks like sparks of pleasure all along his cock and balls. 

By the time he caught his breath, Ben rested his head on his chest and whispered, "I love you, but I'm afraid we really have to go to work now." 

Cupping the back of Ben's head, the thick hair silky against his palm, Ray wanted to sleep, to just relax there with Ben against him forever. 

"Ray, please, we have to go..." 

"To work. I know. Give me a minute." 

"We don't have much time, Ray." 

"You can't just do something like that and expect me to hop right up and get going." 

A few minutes passed before Ray's breathing returned to almost normal and his heart didn't want to beat out of his chest. Taking a deep breath, he managed a few weak words. "We have to shower." 

"Oh, yes, I agree." 

"And change the sheets." 

"I could do that while you shower." 

Ray smiled wickedly. "Not if you're showering with me." 

Ben lifted his head, his face flushed and his lips red and puffy. "We really should consider making it a cold shower, Ray." 

Chuckling, Ray shook his head. "Nope, no way. Hot and soapy all the way." 

Ben didn't argue, just gave in and rolled over as he headed off to the bathroom. Ray followed behind him but didn't miss the invitation of Ben's newfound erection. Broad shoulders, tight ass, hard cock, that's the kind of thing that got Ray's attention in a really big way. 

* * *

"I'm well aware of your disapproval, but I repeat, my private life is none of your concern." Ben paused and then slapped his hand down on the kitchen counter. "You're dead for godsakes. What could you possibly do with grandchildren?" Waiting again, as if listening to a reply, Ben shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You're being irrational about this. I'll be fine and it's my choice to make." 

"Ben?" 

Ben spun around from the sink, looking like a moose caught in the high beam of a search light. "Yes, Ray?" 

"Who are you talking to?" 

"Nobody." 

"Sounded like somebody." 

Ben cracked his neck, straightened his tunic, and didn't meet his eyes. "I sometimes find it helps to argue both sides of a position." 

Ray stepped into the room but didn't let it drop. "Sounded like somebody was giving you a hard time about us." 

"Is that how it sounded?" 

"Is that your freaky way of saying you're not sure about what we did?" 

His face drawn, Ben shook his head, moving to hug Ray. Ben whispered, "No matter what you heard just then, it's not what you think. I love you and I don't regret being with you. I never will." 

Ray pulled back and studied his lover's face, seeing the strain, wondering what the hell he just witnessed. "You hearing voices, too?" 

"Voices?" 

"Yeah, in your head. You got a voice in your head telling you that this is all wrong, like a really bad idea?" 

"Do you have a voice that says that?" 

"Sure, sometimes." 

Ben stepped back, suddenly more formal. "I see." 

"No, you don't see. No guy in this day and age, especially a cop, is ever going to go into something like this and not see all the angles. It's not like we can just tell people without worrying about what they're all going to think. Most are going to say we're sick, that we're disgusting, ought to be run off the job, and they won't be too quiet about it, either." Ray's voice softened as he moved back into Ben's embrace, his arms wrapped around his waist. "I'm not stupid, Ben. Being together is damn hard even when everybody's pulling for you. We won't even have that." 

"No, we won't, but we will have us." 

"Damn straight." 

Ben dropped his head to Ray's shoulder. "I have to tell you something and I'm afraid of how you're going to react." 

Ray tensed, fearful of what it might be. "What?" 

"Sit down first." 

That definitely didn't sound good, not good at all, but Ray reluctantly moved to the sofa. "Okay. What?" 

Rubbing his hands together, Ben paced a few times before he finally stopped, stood straight, and put his hands behind his back. "It started soon after he died." 

"What did?" 

"My father." 

"Your father?" Ray scratched his head, still not getting a clear picture. "He's dead, I get that, but what started after he died?" 

"He started appearing." 

"Appearing?" 

"Yes, out of nowhere, in the car, at the station, in the closet." 

"Closet?" 

"At the Consulate. It's his office." 

"You're losing me here, Ben. Are you saying you're seeing your dad even though he's dead?" 

Ben closed his eyes. "Yes, for some time now." 

Ray sat back, blown away. Crazy Mountie saw dead guys, and not just any dead guys, but his old man who got him stuck in Chicago and pretty much ran his whole life before catching a bullet. Fuck, that had to be scary. Swallowing hard, Ray looked around the place, not quite sure if he wanted to catch a glimpse of the old coot or not. "So, is he here right now or what?" 

Opening his eyes, Ben studied him for a moment, his face hopeful. "You believe me?" 

"Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, I don't know much about that whole stick around after you're dead thing, but if you say you see him, you see him. You wouldn't make that shit up, right?" Ray snorted with amusement, his eyes bright. "Bet you thought you were going nuts the first time." 

Ben let out a relieved sigh and slumped down on the sofa beside Ray. "You have no idea." 

"Oh, I can imagine, Mr. Logic." 

Smiling at the tease, Ben leaned over and kissed him. He cupped his face and stared lovingly. "I'm so glad you believe me." 

"You didn't answer me before. Is he here right now?" 

"No." 

"But he was earlier?" 

The frown returned and Ben turned away. "Yes." 

"And he's not happy?" 

"He thinks it's a difficult path." 

"Because I'm a cop and you're a cop?" 

"Something like that." 

"He's right." 

"He is not right." 

"He's not right about giving up on being together, but he is right about it being hard. We both know that. And from what I heard, he wanted grandkids, huh?" 

Ben shook his head, his voice fussy. "Oh, please, grandchildren, like he ever had any interest in children save passing on the Fraser name, as if that's any reason to bring a defenseless child into this frightful world." 

Ray touched his shoulder, the muscles tight under his hand. "Take a breath, Ben. You want to talk about it?" 

"No, not particularly." 

"But maybe sometime?" 

Ben glanced over, a small smile thinning his lips. "Perhaps. However, right now, we have a case to work. Inspector Thatcher has released me from my regular duties while we work the arson investigation." 

"I wondered about that." 

"Yes, apparently, she knows one of the owners, a Jacob Carver, Senior. She's made it a priority." 

"Lucky me, then." 

"Indeed." 

"So, I guess we better get cracking. Welsh is going to have me for breakfast if I don't show up pretty soon. I guess I could tell him we were talking to a witness." 

Frowning, Ben shook his head. "I don't feel comfortable lying, Ray." 

Ray tilted his head and studied his partner, Fraser's rock solid steadiness a real turn on. His cock ached at the memory of Ben's eager mouth, his hands all over him just a short time earlier. "What? You want to tell him what we were really doing?" 

Ben's cheek muscle twitched and he flushed a really deep pink color that Ray liked, liked a hell of a lot. "I just think we shouldn't say anything unless we're directly asked." 

"And then what?" 

"We could drive by and inspect the most probable targets for arson on the way to the station. It wouldn't be lying to say we were working." 

Laughing out loud, Ray patted him on the back as he reached for his jacket. "Good plan there, Mr. Let's Bend the Truth Just a Little." 

"Can you think of anything more feasible?" 

"Just yanking your chain, Ben. I'll follow your lead." 

As Ray touched the knob to the door, Ben grabbed his hand and turned him around. "Ray, after we leave here, we have to be professional." 

"Absolutely." 

"Then you agree that we have to act normally?" 

Ray practically cackled. "Normal? That's a good one, Frase. I like that. Now, come on, pitter, patter, let's hit the highway. Normal, jeez, like that wouldn't make people suspicious right off the bat." 

With a long-suffering sigh, Ben followed. "This is going to be a very long day." 

* * *

Son of a bitch, son of a fucking bitch. Lying on his side, Ray curled tightly into a ball and groaned as he opened his eyes. Bad idea, like the worst fucking idea ever. The blurry world rolled and he heaved, hard, very hard, like he might lose his damn stomach. Didn't quite puke, but then he couldn't breathe much, either, couldn't catch a breath, not with a broken nose and a rib about ready to puncture a lung. That brought him back to the son of a bitch who pounded his face in. God, he'd kill him if he could ever hold a gun again. 

A hand settled against his chest and he heard a faintly whispered, "Ray, be still. You're injured." 

"No damn kidding." 

"I'm serious. Lie still. You're in shock." 

"Yeah, okay. Fuck." Ray opened his eyes and focused, this time with more success, but then frowned. "You're bleeding." 

"For the most part, it's not my blood." 

"Oh." That's all he could manage as Fraser draped his wool coat over him like a blanket. He needed it to fight off the growing cold, his arms numb and his body shivering. "Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, Ray, just keep breathing." 

"Plan to." Head pounding, stomach clenched, Ray grumbled. "Must be losing my touch. Carver Junior. Fuck. Go figure." 

"Ray, we'll worry about Mr. Carver's son later. Right now my main concern is getting you medical assistance as quickly as possible." 

"Door locked?" 

"Yes, and barricaded from the other side." 

Ray closed his eyes briefly as another icy chill washed over him. Despite his damaged nose, he knew that godawful reek. "I smell gas." 

"I believe he's planning on burning his father's warehouse later tonight." 

"Timer?" 

"I believe so, yes. If he follows his usual pattern, it'll go off just after dark." 

A wave of panic hit him. "I can't burn, Ben. Jesus. Shoot me first." 

"You won't burn, Ray. Now stay still. I'm attempting to break one of the windows. Carver Senior told us yesterday that he'd reinstalled alarms in his remaining vacant buildings. If I can break the connection, we can set off the alarm." 

"You don't think Junior cut it off when he broke in here? He was inside the office when this place was supposed to be abandoned. No alarm went off." 

"He had his father's keys." 

"How do you know that?" 

"I don't, not for certain, but I think it's likely since he has access to his father's home and other places of business." Fraser leaned down, his white Henley soaked with Ray's blood, his lower lip bruised and swollen. "I'm going to attempt to break the glass. Please don't move. I have to focus and I can't do that if I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourself more." 

"Don't worry. Not moving." 

"Good." Ben leaned way down and kissed his forehead. "I love you." 

Closing his eyes briefly, Ray's head floated away, disconnected. Despite the fear of burning alive, those words made it all better. "Love you, too. Now do that Mountie thing you do and get us the hell out of here." 

"Mountie thing?" 

"Fraser..." 

"Right you are then." 

Unable to move, Ray watched his partner heft up one of the wooden chairs and slam it against the reinforced windows, not once, but several times. The tremendous force made a hell of a lot of noise, but not a lot of progress. Taking short, shallow breaths, Ray whispered hoarsely, "Harder, Ben." 

Ben stopped for just a moment and shook his head. "If only that were in the right context, Ray." 

Caught off guard, Ray laughed and then sputtered a cough. It hurt too much to breathe and grew worse with every second. "Fuck. Don't say shit like that, not now." 

Ben didn't bother to answer, but renewed his efforts to break the window with inspired dedication. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ray's head exploded with the sound of the screeching alarm as the chair finally crashed through. Ben moved beside him and held him carefully, palming his forehead. He petted back the matted hair from his face, careful to avoid the deep scalp wound. "It won't be long now, Ray." 

"Good. I feel like shit. I get my hands on Junior and I'll kick his fucking teeth in." 

"And I won't stop you." 

"Won't even try to talk me out of it?" 

"Not in the least." Fraser stopped petting his hair back from his forehead. "The police are out front." 

"That was fast." 

"I believe they may be more vigilant because of the recent rash of fires." 

Another wave of icy pain hit him and Ray fought to remain conscious. "I'm sorry, Ben. He caught me off guard." 

"He caught us both off guard." 

Ray captured Ben's bloody hand and squeezed it. "Son of a bitch hit you." 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, you should've just surrendered. Carver had no intention of harming anyone other than his own father." 

"I couldn't, not after he hit you." 

"You're unhinged." 

"About you, yeah, maybe." Wetting his lips, his air thinning, Ray held on tight. "At least we won't burn." 

"Thank god." 

"Oh, yeah." 

* * *

"Ah, Detective, I see you're finally with us again." 

Gradually, Ray focused, his vision still fuzzy and his head banging like a demented Dewey on drums. He lifted an arm and saw the IV and something that pinched the hell out of his left index finger. The thick bandage on his right hand reminded Ray of the few solid blows he landed on Carver's face right before the prick nailed him with that lead pipe to the head. Ray blinked several times and found Welsh standing there glaring at him, his thick arms crossed around his chest, his jaw clenching. "How long you been here?" 

"Long enough to know you're a numbskull, Kowalski. I swear, if you weren't already in that bed, I'd put you there. What the hell were you thinking pulling a dim-witted stunt like that, not calling in, no back up, and not carrying a phone? I ought to bust your ass back to walking a beat if I thought it'd do any good." 

"In all fairness, Lieutenant, Ray did plan to call in our location, but his cell phone was out of service." 

"And I suppose it's against the law to stop at a corner and use a pay phone?" 

"No, sir. I'm just trying to..." 

"It's okay, Fraser. He's right. I'm a numbskull, a real dumbshit. I should've known it was Junior all along and I didn't follow procedure. I suck." 

Lt. Welsh's face softened and Fraser moved to the far side of the bed, leaning on the rail. "You do not, as you say, suck, Ray. I'm as responsible as you are." 

"If I may interrupt your attempt to shoulder some of the blame, Constable, let me just say, first and foremost, I'm glad you're both alive. You got lucky." 

The drugs made Ray's throat dry, his tongue too thick. Lucky his ass. Still, he wasn't a crispy critter, so it wasn't all bad. Using his good hand, he hit the button to raise his hospital bed and sit up. It made his head spin and his stomach not the least bit happy. "We get Junior yet?" 

Welsh answered, "Picked him up at the airport. He was on his way to France. Seems he's got friends there." Welsh stepped closer to the bed, standing opposite of Fraser and towering over Ray. "Don't change the subject. I'm not finished frying your butt yet. You pull another stupid stunt like this one, and I'll suspend you, that is if you don't get yourself killed next time." 

Ray didn't bother to argue. "Yes, sir." 

"Good, now with that said, I've got some phone calls to make and a firebug to put away. You, Kowalski, do what the doctors say or you'll being doing paperwork until doomsday. Got that?" 

"Come on, Lieutenant. They want me to stay overnight, maybe even longer. I do better at home." 

"Did you get your medical degree in your spare time and not tell me, Detective?" 

"No, I'm just saying..." 

"Then are you suggesting you know more than a qualified team of physicians about busted skulls, even thick busted skulls like your own?" 

"No, I'm just..." 

"Paperwork, Detective, stacks and stacks of paperwork and files, and did I mention a storage room that hasn't been organized since the last time the real Vecchio tried to con me?" 

Welsh sure as hell knew his weak points. "You fight dirty, sir." 

"If I really wanted to play hardball, I'd let your ex-wife and Ms. Vecchio take a crack at your ass." 

Ray groaned, not even wanting to imagine how Stella would chew his ass out. She always hated when she thought he played cowboy, made his life hell, put him in the doghouse so many times, he woke up with fleas. And Frannie, Frannie would make him nuts, talking gibberish like she did when she got really rattled. Oh, yeah, Welsh knew how to hit below the belt, all right. Bet he was a hell of a street cop. 

Welsh turned his attention to Fraser. "And you, Constable, you're not off the hook, either. Inspector Thatcher called and wants a full report by sundown." 

"Right away, sir." 

"She did say you should call and let her know how long you needed to stay with your partner here." 

Fraser glanced at Ray and then back at Welsh. "Ray will need tending for several days once he's released." 

"I told her his condition, so she's aware of that. Look, get it straightened out and call me if you need anything. I've got to get back to the station. Just don't pull this crap again." 

Fraser nodded, his face pale, his bottom lip distorted from the punch in the mouth. "I understand, sir." 

"I hope you do, Constable. It's bad enough to lose good men when it can't be helped. It's a sin when it could've been prevented by using a little cop sense. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Absolutely, sir." 

"Good." Welsh picked up his jacket and coat as he stepped to the door. "Remember what I said, Detective, paperwork will be your middle name if you don't do what you're told." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. Now get some rest. You look like hell." 

As soon as Welsh shut the door, Fraser smiled down at Ray. "That went rather well, Ray, much better than I expected." 

Even with the drugs, Ray ached. "Yeah, he could've suspended me." 

"I think he's rather fond of you, Ray. He was here for quite some time while you were unconscious. I don't think he'd be so angry if he didn't care." 

"Shit, Frase, if he liked me any more, I'd probably be behind bars or writing out traffic tickets." 

"It's all a posture, Ray. He really does like you." 

Ray wanted to argue the point further, but then shifted on the pillow and hissed. "Fuck, that hurts." 

"You've got a level three concussion, a broken nose, two cracked ribs, a great deal of soft tissue bruising, not to mention the stitches in your scalp and right hand. You're lucky you don't feel much worse." 

"Ow, true, even if I did get my ass kicked." 

"You need to lie still." 

Ray did just that, concentrating on breathing through his mouth and around the pain in his chest. After a few moments, he checked out his partner. He reached up and gingerly ran a finger along Ben's injured lip. "That where he belted you?" 

"Yes." 

"You okay?" 

Ben took his hand in his and held it to his face. His eyes squeezed shut as he whispered, "I'm fine, Ray, but you scared me." 

"I'm tough." 

Staring down, his expression suddenly harder, Ben fussed, "But not indestructible. You went up against a man nearly twice your size who was brandishing a lead pipe after he knocked your gun away. It wasn't remotely a fair match, Ray." 

"I got in a few good punches." 

"Ray..." 

"Look, I just lost it. I saw Carver hit you and I just sort of went nuts. You went down and didn't get up." 

"I was stunned. He caught me by surprise." 

"Sucker punched ya." 

"Yes." 

Throat tight, Ray squeezed Ben's hand. "Me, too. I thought I'd lost you before I even got a chance to really have you." 

Ben wiped the single tear from Ray's face and then kissed him, the aches and pains eased away by his partner's care, his touch, his knowing just what Ray needed most, his unconditional love. 

* * *

Ray stood leaning with the lower half of his body against the sink, one hand on the pole of the IV stand, the other fingering the bandage on right side of his head. "Fuck. They shaved my hair off." 

Fraser stood right behind him, his hand at the small of his back. "It'll grow back, Ray." 

"I'm going to have a scar and a big bald spot." 

"Perhaps it will grow back even thicker and bushier than before." 

"Perhaps you're unhinged." 

"That's a theory." 

Glancing back at the mirror, Ray checked out the swollen nose and the two black eyes. God, he looked like shit. Ray's face, lead pipe, the pipe always wins, no contest. Ray sighed, suddenly and desperately zapped, his energy totally shot to hell. The vertigo returned with a vengeance and he rocked forward. "Help me back to the bed." 

"Certainly. Lean on me." 

Like an old man, Ray shuffled across the floor, his head spinning and his stomach up for grabs. Turning slowly, he sat on the edge of the bed and let Ben help shift him higher. His ribs hurt like hell, but he didn't complain, only hitched his breath a few times when he couldn't help it. Once positioned correctly, Ben raised the head of the bed and guided him back against the mattress before lifting Ray's legs up so he could stretch out. He covered him with the sheet and blanket and then raised the side rail. "Would you like some water?" 

"Yeah." 

Ben poured him some ice water and then bent the straw, holding the glass steady while Ray grasped it, sipping almost half before he stopped. Hands still together, Ray whispered, "Thanks." 

"You're welcome." 

Ray released the glass and Ben's touch and sank back against the pillows, exhausted. "God, I want to go home." 

"I know." 

"When can I go home?" 

"Maybe tomorrow." 

"They said that yesterday." 

"You're still not well enough, Ray. Be patient." 

Eyes misty, Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I can't rest here. Hospitals give me the creeps. Always have." 

"One never likes to be dependent." 

Ray opened his eyes and turned his head to see Ben better, his lover's face still a little bleary thanks to the concussion. "It's not that." 

"No?" 

"They smell funny, like Mort's place." 

"Ah." 

Ray rubbed his head, the terrible headache not letting up even for a fucking second. "Please don't do the ah thing." 

"I'm sorry. It's just that I understand completely. The smell of antiseptic is very distinctive. Olfactory memory linked to unpleasant situations can often result in what you refer to as 'the creeps'. To this day, I can't abide the stench of dead caribou without being nauseous." 

"Who would?" 

"Most hunters, I would think." 

Ray tried not to laugh and held a protective hand over his chest. He tired harder to explain. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's hard to get well here. I can't sleep. When they're not running tests, they keep waking me up all day and night to poke me with needles and make me take pills. I can't think straight. I hate it." 

"Believe me, Ray, I understand. After I was shot in the back, I was in the hospital and rehab for over a month." 

"I forgot about that. Jesus, that must have been hell." 

"I don't really remember much about the first week. I was on morphine, so my memory is a bit hazy and fragmented at best." 

"Morphine does that." 

"Indeed, though I must confess, at the time I found it a relief, not so much from the pain of the bullet, but from the overwhelming loss. Still, once they reduced the medication, I found the overall tedium of being forced to remain in bed day after day to be dreadfully depressing. I obsessed about how I would continue my life should I not regain my abilities enough to work again." 

"Well, hell, of course you would." Ray touched Ben's hand on the rail, his voice less tough. "You've still got that bullet in your back, right?" 

"Yes." 

"It ever hurt?" 

Ben frowned as he studied his face. "Sometimes. Why?" 

"Just wondering. Every now and then I think it would've been easier if Stella had just shot me. Felt like she did, like she took me out and put a bullet in my head when I wasn't looking. But I got through it. Part of the reason for that is because I met you." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, I took this job because I needed a change and I sure as hell got that with you." He smiled when he said it, made sure Ben understood he meant it as a good thing. His voice softened. "I don't think I would've made it without you, Ben." 

Ben squeezed his hand, his face deadly serious. "You would have done fine, Ray. You're stronger than you let yourself believe. I can't say I understand your obsession with Stella, not from the way I've seen her repeatedly treat you so badly, but then I can't truthfully say I fully comprehend my disturbing relationship with Victoria. Having said that, I hope that the new level of our relationship brings us to a better understanding of both ourselves and one another." 

"Say that again five times fast." 

"Excuse me?" 

Ray closed his eyes against the brightness of the lights. "Look, I get what you're saying, but bottom line, let's forget about Stella and Victoria. We don't need them. We've got us. That's all that matters." 

"Succinctly put, and I agree." 

"Good." 

Ray lay quietly, breathing slowly, a warm hand on his own as he drifted. "Ray?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You should sleep now. I'll be right here if you need anything." 

"Need you." 

"And I you, Ray." 

* * *

Groaning as he shifted in the bed, Ray tried to distract himself from the persistent pounding in his head and the dull ache in his chest. "How's Dief?" 

Ben looked up from his paper. "He's fine, Ray." 

"I've been meaning to ask, how come you didn't bring him the other day?" 

Folding the paper, Ben put it on the table and then stood up. He walked to the edge of the bed to talk quietly. "I'm afraid Constable Turnbull allowed him to eat a whole bowl of marinara and pasta. You'd think he'd remember the unfortunate consequences of such a diet after the last regrettable incident with spaghetti." 

"God, you'd think. So, poor Diefster had the runs, huh?" 

"And uncontrollable flatulence." 

"You leave him with Turnbull?" 

"It seemed only fair." 

Ray wanted to laugh, but decided against it. Instead, he rubbed his head, the pain never ending, just hacking away like a buzz saw on high. "You'd think they could afford to give a guy an aspirin." 

"Not with a head injury, Ray." 

Ben's somber tone caught Ray's attention and tingled his cop sense. He stared at his partner with suspicion. "You know something you're not telling?" 

"Aspirin increases the chance of bleeding or any bleeding that may already be present." Ben didn't meet his eyes, wouldn't even look up. Fuck. 

"Spill it." 

"Spill what, Ray?" 

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm asking. Why am I still here? I've been bashed in the head plenty of times and been sent home the same night after a quick x-ray and pat on the back. So, I have to ask myself, what's different about this time? If you know, tell me." 

"Dr. Jenson was going to see you this afternoon to explain." 

"Explain what?" 

"The last CAT scan showed a small subacute subdural hematoma." 

"A subawhat?" 

"It's a small blood clot in the brain, no doubt caused by the blow to the head. Yours developed after 24 hours of the initial injury. Luckily, you're only showing a minimal number of symptoms. It's quite possible the clot is small enough to resolve itself without surgical intervention." 

"Surgical? You saying they might have to cut my head open?" 

Ben swallowed hard and took Ray's hand. "They would most likely make a small burr hole in the skull over the clot and drain it away. That would relieve the pressure on the brain." 

Ray couldn't believe it, couldn't take it in, not completely. "You're saying they want to drill a hole in my head?" 

"They might not have to do anything but use medication, Ray." 

"But worst case, they might, they might actually drill a hole in my skull, right?" 

"To save your life and reduce the risk of brain damage, yes." 

"Brain damage?" 

"Pressure on the brain can lead to serious brain damage." 

"Or even death?" 

"Yes, even that." 

"Fuck." 

Ben squeezed his hand reassuringly. "That's why I didn't want to say anything right away. Dr. Jenson wants all the results back before he discussed the possibilities with you." 

"But he discussed them with you?" 

"After my persistence, he told me about the condition and I happen to know a little about it. I had a childhood friend, David, who had to have surgery after running his sled into a tree." 

"He make it?" 

"Yes, thankfully, he did." Ben paused and leaned in closer. "I wasn't trying to be deceitful or hide anything, Ray. I just wanted to wait for all the information first." 

Throat dry, panic building, Ray shuddered involuntarily. "I don't want to have my brain cracked open, Ben." 

"I don't think that will happen." 

"You don't know that it won't." 

"Whatever happens, Dr. Jenson is an excellent neurologist. In all likelihood, you'll simply stay here for observation. If you don't develop any new symptoms and the clot remains small, you'll be released to rest at home for at least a week. Then you'll return for re-evaluation and more tests after that." 

"You say it like it's no big deal." 

"Oh, it's a very big deal, Ray, and I know you're frightened." 

"Scared shitless." 

Ben brushed the back of his hand along Ray's cheek. "You need to rest, Ray. The body has an amazing ability to heal itself. I have every faith that you'll be fine." 

Ray squeezed his eyes shut, his voice shaky. "When I was a kid, we used to live in this rundown trailer park near a railroad track. Trains went by off and on all day. Loud fuckers, too. Used to rock the whole place, and shake, rattle, and roll me awake half the night. That was okay though, because a lot of times I'd be dreaming bad dreams, stuff I don't even like to think about. That's what this feels like, like I'm stuck in this dream, but the trains all stopped running and I'm trapped. I can't even open my eyes and pretend like I'm awake." Before Ben could speak, Ray shook his head. "Do me a favor." 

"Anything." 

"If something happens..." 

"Ray, please..." 

"No, I mean it, if something happens, promise me you'll do your best to get back home." 

"Ray, first of all, nothing's going to happen." 

"You don't know that, Ben. You don't know every fucking thing that's going to happen. Fuck that, it's all going to be okay just because you want it to be okay shit. The world doesn't work that way. Just the opposite. Shit happens." 

"Ray, please calm down." 

"I am calm, calm enough to know that you should take Dief and head back North, go dogsledding, track caribou, do all those things you dream about doing." 

Ben pulled away and gripped the rail with both hands. "Dear God, Ray, do you really think I want to go back to Canada alone?" 

"Well, no, but what I'm saying is..." 

"I know what the hell you're saying. You're saying you think you're going to die and leave me on my own again. Well, to coin one of your favorite expressions, Ray, fuck that." Suddenly ferocious, Ben leaned in, face to face with Ray. "I swear to you on the honor of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police that when I next return home, you'll be by my side." 

The lump in his throat made it damn hard to swallow. "Mean that?" 

"Absolutely." 

"You really think I'm going to be okay?" 

"I believe it with every fiber of my being, Ray, but your undying pessimism is enough to truly try my patience at times." 

"You saying I'm driving you crazy?" 

"That's what I'm saying, yes." 

"Crazy enough to hear dead guys?" 

Startled, Ben got very quiet. "What?" 

"I'm just saying, that if something did happen, you think you'd hear me like you do your old man?" 

"Honestly, Ray, please stop this." Ben's eyes misted over, his voice choked. "I really don't think I could stand losing you." 

Stubborn, but finding comfort in the idea of Ben somehow being able to hear and see him after he died, Ray kept going. "I'm serious." 

"So am I. You're going to be fine, Ray, despite your morbid propensities." Ben kissed his forehead and whispered, "Now, rest. I'm going to track down Dr. Jenson and see if he can explain any of this better than I did." 

Ray grabbed his hand, ignoring the pain of his damaged knuckles. "Don't worry. I'm not planning on checking out, but I just want to know, would you go back home if something did happen?" 

Sighing heavily, Ben shook his head, his lips curved into a thin smile. "Home is with you, Ray." 

"You believe that?" 

"I do." 

Ray smiled and lay back, stronger and less afraid. "Yeah, yeah, I feel the same way. Feels good." 

"Yes, Ray, it feels very good." 

"It'll feel better when I get my ass out of this place, but for now, I'll take what I can get. Now, go get Jenson and stay close. You can translate the medical gobbledegoop." 

"If you'll promise to keep an open mind." 

Ray snorted. "Having a hole in my head's pretty damn open, Ben." 

Shaking his head in exasperation, Ben headed out the door swearing a whole string of weighty Mountie curses under his breath. 

* * *

Waiting to see if his brain would leak out his ears made Ray cranky as hell. "You feed Turtle?" 

"I fed Turtle." 

"You turn on his light before you left? He doesn't get enough light, he gets a soft shell." 

Ben moved from the window and stood by the side of the bed, his impassive, patient face getting a tough workout. "I turned on the light and set the timer. Turtle's fine." 

"Okay, okay, that's good. You feed him the fancy food or the plain stuff?" 

"Ray, I gave him the same food you always give him, the flakes in the gold box." 

"Okay, good. What about clothes? I've got to have clothes to wear when they spring me." 

"You're not ready to go home yet, Ray, but I brought you everything you need to wear when you do leave. Just relax." 

"I'm relaxed." 

"In what universe?" 

"Hardy har har. Very funny." Ray closed his eyes and shifted, his body achy and stiff from being in bed for so long. "I'm hungry." 

"I'm not surprised. You haven't eaten much of anything since you were admitted. Supper isn't for a few more hours. I'll go downstairs and get you a sandwich." 

"No, I mean, I'm hungry to drink." 

"Hungry to drink?" 

"Yeah, you know, that word, that word that means you want to drink something." 

"You mean you're thirsty?" 

"That's it." Ben stilled and Ray opened his eyes, his partner's face suddenly more serious. "What?" 

"Nothing. Would you like some water or juice?" 

"Don't care, just something wet." Ray ran his tongue along his chapped lower lip, his throat cottony and dry. He tried distracting himself. "Tell me about the case." 

Ben poured him a glass of water and then raised the head of the bed a little bit. "Sit up and drink this first." 

Ray guzzled all of it without stopping, but it didn't seem to faze his thirst or make his thoughts any clearer. "Tell me what's going on with whatshisname." 

"You mean Mr. Carver?" 

"Yeah, yeah, the fire guy." 

"Ray, you should probably be resting, not worrying about the case. Lt. Welsh and the others can handle it for now." 

"I know that. I just want to know what's up. I'm stuck here. It's not like I've got better things to do." 

Ben put the glass down and then leaned against the rail. "He's been charged with four counts of arson and two counts of attempted murder of a police officer." 

"Sounds about right." 

"His father wants his lawyer to plead diminished capacity due to a mental illness." 

"Mental illness my ass. The kid was pissed at his old man and wanted to get even." 

"Perhaps, but it may be more complicated than that." 

Ray saw it coming and wanted to scream. "Don't fucking tell me the DA is going to make a deal with this asshole." 

"It's out of our hands now." 

"Fuck that, Fraser. He beat the shit out of us and then tried to burn us alive. They can't make a deal over shit like that." 

"The young man apparently has a long history of mental illness." 

"Then how come we didn't know that?" 

"Because his juvenile records were sealed and medical records are confidential." 

"Fuck. That's what Macklin was hinting at before. He knew all along who it was. We should haul his ass in for being a...a.....a whatdoyoucallit when they help the bad guy?" 

"Accessory?" 

"Yeah, yeah, that." 

"I don't think Macklin was an accessory, Ray. He may have suspected Carver for the crime, but that doesn't mean he aided him in any way." 

"Then we should get him on that other thing, that obstruction thing. He should've given us a name, not the run around." 

"I seriously doubt we could prove that charge, either." 

His heart racing and his forehead about to explode, Ray dropped his head back to the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. "This sucks. This whole fucking job sucks." 

"Sometimes it's very frustrating." 

"Fuck frustrating. The guy almost kills us and they let him off." 

"They didn't let him off, Ray. He's in the hospital for psychological evaluation. If he doesn't go to prison, he'll be in a mental health facility for a very long time. I assure you that Lt. Welsh says they're doing everything they can." 

"Whack'im with a lead pipe, that's what they oughta do." Ray took a deep breath and coughed. His ribs ached and he sat a little straighter. "More water." 

Ben gave him another glass and Ray finished it off before he spoke again. "Sorry. Didn't mean to take it out on you. I just get mad about stupid shit like that." 

Reaching out, Ben cupped his cheek, the heat welcome against Ray's skin. He traced Ray's bottom lip with his thumb before pulling his hand away. "I know." 

"Don't you ever get mad about stuff like that, that whole miscarriage stuff?" 

"Miscarriage?" 

"You know, how justice gets fucked over." 

"As in miscarriage of justice? Yes, I must confess to being very angry at times." 

"You don't show it." 

"That's because I've spent a lifetime learning how to control and conceal my emotions." 

"Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why the whole control and conceal thing? I mean, I know you do that. I've seen it firsthand. But that can't be easy and I know enough to know that it's tough on a guy to hide what he's feeling. Sometimes it just all explodes at once. Some little shitty thing happens, spilled milk, a broken glass, and it's like the last straw. That's it, bam, bam, bam, that's all she wrote. The guy loses it, hits his wife, hits his kid, shoots the neighbor. I don't want to see that happen to you." 

"Good Lord, no, Ray, I should hope not." 

"You need to let off steam, let go more, so it doesn't twist you all up and make you do stuff you regret later." Ray didn't want to talk about punching Ben, how he'd lost his temper like he swore he'd never do, but he had to say it. "Like that time I hit you. I swear to god, I hated myself after that. I'm sorry." 

"I know, Ray." 

"I'd cut my fucking arm off before I'd ever do that again, understand?" 

"Understood." 

"So you've got to stop holding back so much." 

"I appreciate your concern, Ray, but I'm not as demonstrative as you are. I grew up in a home where expressing negative emotions was frowned upon and punished." 

"Punished as in they hit you or something?" 

"Sometimes." 

"They hit you for feeling bad?" 

"They allowed brooding with a limited amount of sulking." 

"Which you do like a pro, by the way, better than anybody I ever met." 

"Why, thank you, Ray." 

"I didn't mean that as a good thing, Ben." 

"Perhaps not, but acting out in anger, that wasn't tolerated without consequences. Even the rare incident of corporal punishment would be followed by a period of enforced silence and reflection. Eventually, I found it much easier to simply internalize or go out and chop wood or do some other kind of strenuous activity." 

"That sucks." 

"At least it allowed me an opportunity to develop a personal discipline I might not otherwise have had." 

Ray got very quiet, the weight of memory hard to push away. "My dad used to belt me sometimes, too. Hell, a lot of times when he was drinking." 

"Belt you?" 

"Yeah, you know, in the head when I wouldn't behave and got out of hand. Knocked me out once, rattled my brain for a week. Couldn't think straight, got in trouble at school for not paying attention. My mum put her foot down after that. Didn't stop him from hauling off when he got really pissed though. Sometimes I didn't even know what I did that set him off. I was a rowdy kid, always running around breaking stuff and screaming for no good reason, just having fun, you know, but I learned early to walk soft around the old man." 

Ben stood straighter, his face flushed with anger. "My god, Ray, your father actually knocked you unconscious?" 

"He didn't mean it. I was just a kid." 

"I think that's the whole point, Ray. You were a child." 

"You just said your grandparents hit you, too." 

"They spanked me, Ray. It's hardly the same thing as striking a boy with enough force to cause unconsciousness." 

"That only happened a few times." 

"It happened more than once?" 

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago. He stopped drinking and it got better and by that time I had Stella. I could hang out with her and give him some space." Ray scooted down in the bed, his eyes closed. "I don't want to think about all that right now. To be honest, hitting me was the least of what he did." 

"I don't understand." 

"I'm tired." 

"Ray..." 

"I don't want to talk anymore." 

"Then sleep. We'll talk later." 

"Don't be mad." 

A hand petted his forehead followed by a light, feathery kiss to his cheek. "I'm not angry with you, Ray. I love you." 

"Love you, too." Drifting, Ray shut down the bad memories the best he could. He focused instead on someday seeing Ben's world, a wide open, wild place where he could be alive and not scared, not too damaged to enjoy life and all it had to offer with someone who really cared. 

* * *

"Constable, this room is off limits to visitors and patients." 

Fraser turned, his arms wrapped around his chest. He stood straighter and then put his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry, Dr. Jenson. I needed to see Ray's x-rays." 

An older man, mid-fifties, stepped closer and dropped a file on the desk under the lighted row of x-rays. "I see." He scanned the wall. "How did you get these?" 

"I'm afraid I resorted to subterfuge. I relied on a diversion and then took them when Nurse Wells was tending another patient." 

"You realize I could have you suspended from the hospital." 

"I realize that, yes, sir." 

"But you did it anyway." 

"I felt it important." 

"Why? You're not a doctor. Do you even know what you're looking at?" 

"Somewhat, yes." Fraser turned back to the x-rays and pointed at several lines on Ray's film. "Here and here, are these hairline fractures?" 

Reluctantly, Jenson played along and put on his glasses. He studied the areas Fraser indicated before nodding. "Years old, but yes." 

Fraser moved his finger to another line. "And this, is this also the result of a skull fracture?" 

"Yes." Jenson took off his glasses and stood straighter. "Look, Constable, your partner has a long history of head injuries. This isn't the first concussion I've treated since he's been a police officer. Over the last eight years, he's had five concussions, two of those serious." He waved a hand at the pictures. "These injuries came before that. He said he played hockey and did some boxing when he was younger." 

"Do you believe that?" 

Jenson frowned and leaned back, his arms crossed. "The injuries would be consistent with sports like hockey or boxing, but I must confess that some of them do seem older. Why? What are you getting at?" 

"I just wanted to confirm something I suspected." 

"And this suspicion caused you to risk being thrown out of the hospital when your partner needs you the most?" 

Fraser took a deep breath, his heart heavy, not really sure what to do with the information now that he had it. He just knew he needed to be there for Ray. "I'm truly sorry, sir, but it was vitally important that I see the extent of his previous injuries myself." 

"Vitally?" 

"Yes, sir." Fraser cleared his throat before he asked the next question. "Those kind of injuries, the fractures and repeated blows to the head, would those account for certain types of aphasia?" 

"I have a feeling you already know the answer, Constable, but yes, they would. Someone might have trouble processing language after only one blow to the head, much less several. He or she might not understand language or be able to speak. It might be more limited, where the patient can't think of certain words or understand and translate certain phrases. They might have trouble with reading or writing. Any of those might result from Traumatic Brain Injury. Have you seen any indications of this in your partner?" 

"Periodically, in some situations, yes." 

"Is this a new difficulty? Because, I've seen no indication of it in his latest round of tests." 

"It's not recent, no, and as I said, it's limited and somewhat sporadic." 

Jensen studied him closely, his lips pursed. He glanced at the x-rays and then back at Fraser. "He didn't get those hairlines from hockey, did he?" 

Fraser's gut clenched, his anger boiling up as he pushed it back down. He wanted to stay calm for Ray's sake, but wished like hell he could take Mr. Kowalski's head off. "I'm not at liberty to say, sir." 

"Riiight." Jenson cleared his throat and reached up to take down Ray's film from the lights. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see this breach of conduct, Constable." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"You'll also be happy to know that the latest scan showed that the hematoma is just a bit smaller. If there's no increase in pressure and he shows no further symptoms over the next 24 hours, I'll check again and send him home with orders for rest for the next week." 

"That's good news then." 

"Better than surgery, yes, but it's still a wait and see game for now." 

"Understood." 

Fraser stepped to the door, but Jenson stopped him. "Constable, you need to know that if he has the kind of damage you suspect, then it's more than likely permanent." 

"I understand that, but Ray's been very good about compensating. As you said, he's shown no serious diminishment of language skills." 

"On the contrary, he talks a blue streak. I must say he has some rather colorful expressions, too." 

For the first time, Fraser smiled. "Yes, he does." 

"And it's possible that the reason he uses a fragmented conversational style is because his brain has compensated for the damage. The brain is a remarkable organ. It can take a great deal of punishment and work around that. I've seen miracles where people function with literally half a brain. On the other hand, I've seen seemingly healthy people fall over dead from a simple tap to the head or an aneurysm with no warning whatsoever. I guess what I'm saying is that despite all his injuries, your partner seems to be doing well, considering." 

Fraser's throat tightened as he blinked several times against the sting of unexpected tears. "Yes, considering." He didn't say out loud considering Ray's father beat him senseless for no reason, might have damaged his brain irrevocably. "Thank you for taking time to talk to me about this. I would, however, appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything to Ray about my indiscretion." 

Dr. Jenson shrugged as he put the last of Ray's x-rays away. "I'd think that would be up to you, Constable. It's been my experience that a good partnership relies on trust. You and Ray seem to have that." 

"I will talk to Ray about this, but not now." 

"I understand, or I think I do. At any rate, I do have some other patients to see." Jensen held up the packet of x-rays. "And I need to take these back to the desk where they belong. I'll walk you out." 

Fraser followed the doctor down the hallway, but instead of going into Ray's room, he went into the public restroom. He stepped into a stall, closed his eyes as he fought down the anger, the tears, the raw vision of smashing Damian Kowalski's face in. 

* * *

Ray rubbed his face with his left hand and ignored the tray of food in front of him. Ben stepped back to the bedside. "Ray, you need to eat something." 

"You eat it." 

"Ray..." 

"Listen, I'm not even sure if that's chicken or fish, and that green Jello, how many times do I have to say I _hate_ green Jello?" His tough voice lost some of its bite. "Besides, I'm not hungry." 

"Are you still nauseous?" 

"No." 

"Would you like me to get you soup and some pudding from the cafeteria? They have a nice chicken noodle and the chocolate pudding is actually quite good." 

Ray pushed the tray away and shut his eyes. "Maybe later." 

"Do you still have a headache?" 

"A little, not as bad." 

"Can I do anything?" 

"Go home." 

"Go home?" 

Ray opened his eyes and turned his head toward his partner. "You look worse than I do, Ben. You need to go home and get some sleep." 

"I'm fine, Ray. I don't want to leave you here alone." 

"You could stay at my place," Ray paused, his voice hushed, "our place." 

"Our place?" 

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe you could stay at the apartment. Beats that cot in a closet you've got." 

Ben frowned. "Are you asking me to live with you?" 

"Yeah, sort of, if you want. No pressure. It's just you're going to stay anyway until I'm well, right?" 

"Right." 

"So why not make it longer?" Ben's hesitation answered his question. "You don't want to. Okay, okay, I just jumped the gun, I guess. I thought..." 

"You thought we could move in together and no one would notice?" 

"I wasn't really thinking about other people right now." 

"Ray, I'd love to live with you, but it's not about what I want or what you want. There are other factors to consider." 

Disappointed, Ray sighed. "Yeah, I'm Vecchio and you and him wouldn't shack up. I get that. Don't like it, but I get it." 

"Correct." 

Ray fingered Ben's hand resting on the rail, suddenly unsure and insecure. "But what if I wasn't Vecchio anymore, what about when he comes back, you think you'll want to?" 

"We have no idea when that might be." 

"I didn't ask that." 

"Ray, we haven't even discussed how you feel about being open about our relationship once this assignment is over." 

"I know. What about you? You want to be open?" 

"My situation is different from yours, Ray." 

Ray shifted a little to his side, catching the seriousness of his lover's expression. "How? How is it different?" 

"The RCMP doesn't discriminate against homosexuals the way the American police forces do." 

"So you could be out and not get fired, right?" 

"Yes, and as I understand it, you would also be legally protected. However, it's been my experience in the short time I've been in Chicago that homosexual officers are, indeed, victims of discrimination despite the rules in place to protect them." Ben's voice softened has held Ray's hand. "It would pain me considerably to know you'd suffer if our relationship became common knowledge." 

Ray squeezed his hand and smiled. "But it'd be worth it. Besides, what do I care if I've still got you as a partner?" 

Relaxing, Ben leaned forward, his lips brushing against Ray's. He whispered, "I'll always be your partner if you'll have me." 

The earnest words warmed him up all over. "Oh, yeah, I'll have you. What about you? You want me, too?" 

"More than words can say." 

"Good. Then it's settled. After this mess with Vecchio is over, then we'll move in together officially." 

"We have no idea how much longer that will be, Ray." 

"Doesn't matter. In the meantime, you really should go home and get some sleep." 

"I can't do that." 

"Why not?" 

"I couldn't sleep knowing you were here without me." 

"Worry much?" 

"More than I used to." 

Ray studied Ben's strained face and then cupped his cheek, the day old whiskers strange on the usually clean skin. "I'm better. I can feel it, like everything's a little more clear, not quite as grey and muddy." 

"But I'd never rest knowing I might not be here if something did happen." 

"Worrywart Mountie, huh?" 

"I'm afraid so, yes." 

"Okay, then do me a favor." 

"What?" 

"Promise me that as soon as we get home, I can order a pizza." 

"Pizza?" 

"With pineapple, no lichen and blubber." 

Ben actually smiled, his face beaming for the first time in several days. "Pineapple it is, then." 

* * *

Free of all monitors and IVs, Ray sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his feet just barely touching the floor. "I can't believe they cut off my boots. There should be a law or something." 

"Ray, they don't have time to worry about your favorite footwear during emergency situations." 

"They could've at least tried to save'em. They were the best boots I ever had, just right, no pinching. I could sleep in those boots. I loved those boots." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. I understand completely how one can get attached to a fine pair of boots." 

"A Mountie and his boots are the stuff of legends, Fraser." Ray grinned as Ben blushed. "You know, maybe I should try out some of those nifty tie ups like you wear sometime." 

"You want to wear my boots?" 

"Actually, I was thinking of you wearing your boots and nothing else." 

Ben blushed even more red and then cleared his throat, trying to maintain composure and proper deportment and failing miserably. "Ray, please..." 

"Please, what? You want me to tell you all the other stuff I've been thinking about while I've been cooped up here doing nothing for days?" 

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of you getting dressed so we could finally go home." 

"And I could tell you there?" 

"Exactly." 

"Oh, I'm all over that. Hand me my pants." 

Ben gave him the bag of clean clothes and Ray pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants with disappointment. Sweats just didn't make a well statement like jeans did. "Why'd you bring these?" 

"You need something warm and non-binding. I thought those would be the best choice. Besides, it'll save you having to change when you get home. You can wear the sweatpants to bed." 

Ray grinned, his Mr. Libido awake and suddenly thriving. "Bed, huh?" 

Ben stood straighter and shook his head. "Ray, I meant for sleeping. There won't be any sexual relations until the doctor says you're fit enough." 

Shocked, Ray couldn't believe it, couldn't believe his ears. "Do I have a head injury or did you just say you're going to ask the doctor when we can have sex again?" 

"Ray, nothing of a sexual nature will happen until you've had another scan and you're cleared for physical activity." 

"You're kidding." 

"I assure you I'm not." 

"Fuck." 

"I think not, Ray." 

"You really think we can keep our hands off each other for a whole week?" 

Ben wet his lower lip, considering the question carefully, not meeting Ray's intent gaze. "Perhaps we should consider it a challenge, a test if you would, about how our love goes beyond the mere physical attraction each of us has for the other." He stepped closer and lifted Ray's chin to meet his eyes. "Besides, Ray, I'd never endanger your health, not for a sexual release." 

"Even if I wanted it, even when I feel better?" 

"Even then." 

Deflated, but not defeated completely, Ray turned his head and kissed the inside of Ben's hand still cupping his face. "Okay, okay, I get that. I don't like it, but it makes sense. Besides, if I kicked off while we were doing it, you'd never forgive me." 

"Dear Lord, Ray, don't even say that." 

Ray captured Ben's hand as he tried to pull away. "Don't. I'm sorry. I just can't think of a better way to go out than being with you." 

His words choked, his eyes too bright, Ben leaned in closer. "I should think when you're old and grey and I'm already in my grave." 

Shaking his head, Ray pushed away the thought of ever losing Ben, of ever being alone again. "I don't see myself as old, Ben. I never have. I'm not saying it couldn't happen, but look at me, at what I do, how I live. Toss that in with the way you are. Do you really see us growing old together somewhere? Because I don't. But I'm selfish. I don't want you to die first. I don't know if I could live with that." 

"And you think I could?" 

"You've lived with worse." 

"Never." Both hands took Ray's face as Ben kissed him briefly, sweetly, like just tasting. "Nothing could be any worse than losing you." 

Breathing hurt more when he bawled like a baby, so Ray tried really hard not to cry. He swallowed and blinked several times before he finally nodded, his voice still choked up. "Same here." 

"Good, now that's settled. Neither one of us wants to risk losing the other." Ben stood straighter, clapping and rubbing his hands together the way he did when he really wanted to get the ball rolling. "Our goal now is to get you dressed and out of this place. Pants first and then sneakers." 

"Sneakers?" 

"Yes, I found a nice broken pair at the back of your closet." 

"You mean broken in?" 

"Broken in, yes, right you are, Ray. Broken in." 

"Good, okay, sneakers will do." Ray took a couple of deep calming breaths and coughed. "Ow, man, that hurts. I hate cracked ribs." 

"I would think so. Very painful." Ben picked up the pants. "Present leg, put on pants. Let's get started." 

Ben's sudden shift to taskmaster didn't surprise him at all. Ray kind of liked it, enjoyed the way Ben sometimes took over. Organized and efficient didn't know what hit'em. Sure, sometimes it buttered his muffins, pissed him off how domineering Ben could be. But overall, he preferred bossy Ben to the sulky guy who didn't stand up for himself when he should, the guy who let someone like the Ice Queen walk all over him, spiked heels and all. 

"Ray? Leg?" 

"Sure." Ray lifted his leg and smiled while Ben worked up a sweat to help him dress without getting too excited. Even from a hospital bed, Ray could see it wasn't going to be easy and somehow that pleased him. 

* * *

Ray rolled over and groaned, wrapping his arm protectively over his damaged ribs. It still hurt like a son of a bitch to move. Fuck. Being in his own bed helped, but didn't eliminate the pain, just the embarrassment of showing off his butt in that stupid ass hospital gown. 

Dief woofed from the doorway and Fraser stood there smiling. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better. Not great, but better." 

"Good. Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot." 

"Sure. Give me a minute to get there." 

"Stay put. I'll bring it in here." 

"I can come to the table." 

"May I suggest a compromise?" 

"Compromise?" 

"Yes, a give and take, a..." 

Ray closed his eyes, his patience sorely tested. "I know what a compromise is, Fraser." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. I just wanted to suggest that perhaps you could lie on the sofa for a while. A change in venue sometimes allows for a lighter mood." 

"Lighter mood? You saying I'm in a lousy mood?" 

"As would be expected during an extended convalescence for someone who is normally active." Ben stepped closer to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, his back to Ray. "When I was recovering from my bullet wound, there were many times when Ray's efforts to make me more comfortable or simply to be companionable only made me more melancholy and on some days even close to irrational." 

"Come on, Ben. Sure, that melawhatever, yeah, I can see that. You can be that on a good day, but irrational, not on a bet. You're the most logical, rational guy I know." 

"Thank you, Ray, but in all honesty, there are, indeed, times when I can verge on the irrational." 

Forgetting his own troubles for a minute, Ray shifted on the pillows to sit up. "Okay, now I have to know, now I have to know what it is you think would be irrational." 

"Well, for one thing, I took a perverse pleasure in the fact that Ray got shot protecting me while I was still in the hospital." 

"That's not irrational. That's just human nature, tit for tat, even steven." 

"That's what he said." 

"You told him how you felt?" 

"Of course, Ray. It wouldn't have been right not to. I think it helped assuage some of his own guilt for shooting me in the first place." 

"Probably. Now, what else?" 

Ben leaned back a little against the headboard, but kept his feet safely planted on the floor. "Well, I have to confess, I was afraid I'd never return to active duty, that I'd be forced to serve at a desk. I can do many things, Ray, but to never work out in the field again, I don't know if I could do that. I spent a lot of time contemplating how my life might be if I left the service." 

"You mean give up being a Mountie?" 

"Yes." 

"Now, _that's_ irrational." 

"As I said." 

Ray reached over and took Ben's hand. He squeezed it gently and then let go. "Okay, so this is your way of telling me to stop being so cranky about having to take it easy for a few days, right? That sometimes I might not be thinking too straight because I've got all this other stuff, these other worries, in my head?" 

"It's possible that the irritability is directly related to your injury and your other concerns, yes." 

Ray crossed his arms around his chest and closed his eyes. "I just hate this whole stay in bed until your muscles turn to mush bit." 

"Better your muscles than your brain." 

"Good point." 

"Besides, Ray, you've got excellent muscle tone." 

Glancing to his side, Ray caught Ben's hungry look. "Like what you see?" 

"Very much so." 

"Same here." Ray pointed at Ben's feet. "You can put your boots on the bed, Ben. They won't hurt anything. Or you can take them off and rest easy." 

Instead of complying, Ben stood up. "No, I think it's better that I go get the coffee. Would you like me to help you to the sofa?" 

"No, I can manage. Thanks." As Ben stepped towards the door, Ray spoke to his back. "It's okay to get comfortable, Ben. This is your place, too, whether Vecchio's back or not." 

Turning in the doorway, Ben nodded his understanding, but then left for the kitchen without saying a word. The silence continued once Ray got to the living room and settled on the sofa. Ben handed him his coffee and then sat in the chair, still quiet, still not quite Ben. "Did I say something wrong? You seem rattled, like I said something really shitty." 

"No, Ray. You said something very kind. I appreciate it." 

"Kind? You think me asking you to be comfortable is being kind, like I'm just being polite or something?" 

Leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, Ben's soft voice filled the room. "I want to be with you, Ray, but this situation is fraught with temptation." 

"You won't do anything I don't want." 

Startled, Ben stared at him and then shook his head. "No, I didn't mean sexual temptation, though that might be part of it. I'm saying that I'm afraid that if I get too comfortable, I might be tempted to forget the continued artifice we're forced to maintain." 

"You mean me being stuck as Vecchio and you and me just being cop buddies?" 

"Yes." 

"Welcome to the world of undercover, Ben. You have to learn to live in two worlds, in here and out there." 

"I fear I don't have the talent for subterfuge that you do, Ray." 

Ray snorted. "Come on. What about that stuff you pulled with Cahill? He wanted to nail my balls to the wall and he would have if you hadn't done that whole ruse with the letter. Pulled my ass out of the fire." 

"But that was just a short-lived situation, Ray. How can I be sure that I won't do something to alert others of our changed status?" 

"Can't give you a guarantee, but I'd bet all the air in Canada that if anyone can pull this off, you can." 

Ben leaned back enough to crack his neck. Then he relaxed with a thin smile. "That's a lot of air, Ray." 

"Yeah, but I've got a pat hand." 

Ben didn't argue, just sat back and considered the situation. Ray could almost see those Mountie wheels turning. He just prayed they were all rolling in his direction. 

* * *

Jerking awake, Ray bit back a cry as he ducked for cover, his arms over his head. Fuck, he hated dreams in Polish. Drenched in a cold sweat, he sat up slowly, his hands still shaking. 

"Ray? Are you all right?" Ben stood at the end of the sofa, his face grim. "You were dreaming." 

"Yeah." 

"I didn't know whether to wake you or let you sleep." 

"Tough call." 

Ben settled on the couch beside him, his hand on his arm. "What was it?" 

"Nothing." 

"Ray..." 

"Just a bad dream, that's all, just shit I don't want to talk about." 

"It might help to talk." 

"It's old stuff, stuff that's over and done with." 

"Not that over and done with if you're still dreaming about it." 

Ray shook his head, fighting off the lingering tension from the dream, the voices screaming in Polish still ringing in his head. He shuddered involuntarily and then sagged back, his arms crossed around his chest. "My dad's mum died when I was real little, so my grandfather lived with us for a while. He only spoke Polish." The words stalled as he closed his eyes, the angry voice in his head still yelling, still threatening. "He was an asshole." 

"Worse than your father?" 

Surprised by the question, Ray opened his eyes and stared at Ben. "What?" 

"I said..." 

"I heard what you said. You called my dad an asshole." 

"Not directly." 

"Directly, indirectly, he might be an asshole, but that's my call, not yours." 

"Understood." 

Sitting back up, Ray ran a nervous left hand through his remaining hair. "Look, my grandfather belted my dad around. They used to have knockdown drag outs right in the trailer. The whole place shook. The old guy never fucking let up." 

"They actually came to blows?" 

"Didn't I just say that?" Ray swallowed hard and controlled his rising tempter. "I'm sorry. I hate talking about it. I remember hiding in the closet a few times, but most of the time I just hid behind my mum. She cried a lot. I hate remembering that." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. That had to be disturbing." 

"It's funny. I don't speak Polish, but I remember all the words they said. I even went to a translator once, just to see what they were saying. Big mistake." 

"Why?" 

"It embarrassed the translator, and me, too, when she told me what it all meant." 

"Ah." 

"Yeah. The details don't matter, but all that shit keeps showing up in my head, old voices. Don't know why. My grandfather died when I was eight." 

"Did things get better after he died?" 

Ray stiffened, the memories like busy ants all over his skin, crawling and biting. "Not really." 

"Is that when your father started hitting you?" 

"He started drinking and got laid off. He was depressed, I know that now, but I was just a kid. I didn't understand what was going on. Half the time he'd take me to ballgames, teach me to work on cars, be a real dad. But the other half, he was whacking me across the fucking room. I never knew what to expect." 

"Why didn't your mother leave him?" 

"We're Catholic, or at least my mum is. I mean, she bought the whole party line, the whole for better or for worse, no matter what thing." Ray's voice took on a harder edge. "And don't try to put this on her, because she did the best she could. It wasn't her fault that..." 

"That what? That your father beat you? Ray, how many cases have you covered where the wife used that excuse for staying with a man who mistreated the children?" 

Ray took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. "It's not the same thing." 

"Why not?" 

"It's just not. Leave it alone. That was a long time ago." When Ben didn't answer, Ray opened one eye and peeked over. Ben still stared at him, his expression solemn. "What?" 

"I'm upset." 

"With me?" 

Ben's hand captured Ray's, the touch gentle but firm. "Not at all. With your father. I've read the books, seen the cases, but never truly understood the dynamic." 

"Dynamic?" 

"How a parent abuses a child, but the child often dismisses or forgives the parent." 

Suddenly angry, Ray jerked his hand away. "My dad didn't abuse me. Don't say that." 

"What would you call it?" 

"Spare the rod, spoil the child. He was tough. I fucked up and he made sure I didn't do it again." 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, what would you do if you saw a man knock his child unconscious under the guise of discipline?" 

His anger drained away and Ray moved to sit in the chair opposite Ben. "Okay, okay, so he did something pretty bad. So what? I lived, grew up, got over it." 

"But you haven't gotten over it, Ray." 

"What do you mean?" Ben didn't answer right away so Ray pressed harder. "Tell me what the fuck you mean." 

"I believe those early blows to your head caused damage." 

"You mean like the way I can't read so good and have to work like a dog to write a sentence? Like how sometimes I know a word in my head clear as a bell, but can't say it without fucking up?" 

Ben studied him, obviously surprised by Ray's answer. "You already know?" 

"Like I said before, Ben, I may be damaged, but I'm not stupid. I know what my dad did. Took me a while to figure it out, but I finally got it." 

Incredulous, Ben shook his head. "Then how can you forgive him? How can you talk to him about your car and hockey games like nothing ever happened?" 

"Because he's my dad." 

"Like that's license for abuse?" 

"No, I'm not saying that. I know he's not a great guy all the time, but he's the only dad I've got and my mum's still married to him. I'm not trying to make excuses, but we can't pick our dads, Ben. Not everybody gets to have a super Mountie pop like you got." 

Sobered, Ben shook his head. "Ray, you have no idea how much I realize that." 

"What's that mean?" 

"It means, all sons and fathers have problems. My father and I were no exception, but he never abused me. Neither did my grandparents. Blood doesn't excuse that kind of behavior." 

"Didn't say it did. I'm just talking about my old man. He's all I've got, Ben. I just got him back. I don't want to lose him again because you're pissed about how he used to be." 

"I'm not angry, Ray." 

"Yes, you are." 

"No, I'm just concerned." 

"You're pissed." 

"Ray..." 

"Admit it. You're pissed at my old man and you want to sock him." 

Aggravated, Ben yielded. "All right, all right, have it your way. I am angry. He had no right to do that. He should've been stopped and brought to justice." 

"Maybe today he would be, but those were different times. Back then a woman didn't have a place to go. They didn't have the social services and shelters. Plus, my mum's family is all gone and then there's that whole church thing. It wasn't her fault." 

"That's the second time you've said that. Do you really believe your mother had no responsibility to protect you from your father?" 

The words came out soft, almost choked. "She's a good woman, Ben." 

"I'm sure she is, Ray, but she should've done something." 

Ray didn't answer, just slumped back in the chair, his eyes closed and blocking out the fever pitched voices still screaming in Polish in his head. 

"Ray?" 

"What?" 

"I didn't mean to upset you." 

"It's not you. Sometimes it takes a little while to get the dreams out of my head." 

"I've had the same experience." 

Ray kept his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to distract himself. "Yeah? Like when?" 

"When my mother first died, I often dreamed of her. Even when I woke up, I expected her to be there singing or holding me. When she wasn't, I still tried to imagine it." 

"But that was a good dream." 

"Was it?" 

The poignant tone caught Ray's attention, and Ray understood, knew exactly what Ben meant. He opened his eyes and then moved to sit beside his partner. Taking his hand in his, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ben. It was hard knowing it wasn't real, that it'd never be real again, right?" 

Ben turned his head and met his gaze. "Dreams tell us a lot about ourselves, Ray. I loved my mother and I couldn't give up wanting her back for a very long time. Now I can dream about her and not be disturbed. You, on the other hand, are still dreaming in Polish. You need to resolve this." 

"I have resolved it. My dad and I, we talk now. He doesn't hit me now, doesn't even think about it. He knows better." 

Ben nodded in understanding. "And the threat of violence comes full circle." 

Stunned, Ray pulled away. "What?" 

"You father fears your violence." 

"You saying if he didn't think I'd hit back, that he'd still be going at me?" 

"That's what I'm saying, yes." 

"Fuck." Ray scrubbed his face with both hands and then sighed as Ben draped an arm around his shoulders. 

"Ray, it's all right. I just think it's important not to avoid the issue." 

"The issue being my old man's a scumbag?" 

"I never called him a scumbag." 

"What do you call a man who beats his kid?" 

"Many things, scumbag included." 

"See, same thing." Ray wet his lower lip, working hard to keep from shaking. "It's just I want my old man to like me. I want to get along. I can't bring this all up and put it in his face, I just can't. Don't ask me to." 

"I'm not asking you to do that." 

Puzzled, completely baffled, Ray scratched his head. "I don't get it. Then what's this about? What do you want?" 

"I just want you to be aware of it." 

"Aware of it?" 

"Yes, so that if a situation arises when you might need to react to your father, you'll understand your response." 

"That's it?" 

"For now. Also, I must confess, I needed to discuss it, to try to understand the situation better." 

Ray nodded and took a deep breath. "Because it pissed you off." 

"Yes. I don't do well with anger." 

"I know. Makes you break out in a rash, like you might lose a bunch of Mountie brownie points or something if you socked somebody in the jaw." 

"Now, Ray..." 

"Don't now Ray me. You know it's true. Being pissed makes you uncomfortable, all antsy, like your boots need to be polished." 

Ben shrugged and nodded. "I must admit, it makes me uneasy." 

Ray hesitated. "Does it bother you when I get on a roll and start pitching a fit?" 

"I'm used to it." 

"That's not what I asked." 

Not meeting his eyes, Ben spoke quietly. "In the beginning, I will admit that it was difficult. I thought perhaps the anger was directed toward me. After a while I realized that it was an underlying aggression, an anger born of frustration as well as a defense mechanism that has nothing to do with me. So, while it bothers me when you get angry, I more clearly understand the nature of it." 

"But it bothers you?" 

"Sometimes, yes." 

Ray hated hearing that, hated what he had to ask next. "You think I'd ever be violent with you?" 

Ben lifted and shook his head, his gaze confident. "Never." 

"I've hit you before." 

"But never again. You promised me and I believe that." 

"With all your heart?" 

"With all my heart, Ray." 

Swallowing back his own fear, his own doubt, Ray took a deep breath. "Promise me that if I ever do it again, that you'll leave me unless I get help." 

Stunned, Ben's eyes narrowed. "What?" 

"You heard me. Don't ever let me do that again." 

"You won't." 

"I heard my dad promise my mum so many times I lost count. Who's to say I'm not just like him?" 

"You're not your father." 

"I hope to hell not, because if I am, I'd just as soon you shoot me." 

Ben drew him closer and hugged him, kissing his cheek and then his mouth gently. He pulled back, his easy whisper drowning out the Polish voices. "I know I'm safe with you, Ray. Believe me." 

Ray relaxed in his partner's arms, his eyes closed, drinking in the voice of his future. 

* * *

Van Morrison played on the stereo, his rough, Irish voice backed by saxophone and some seriously wicked guitar. Ray stretched out on the couch, his feet up, his arm over his eyes. Relaxed and happy, he enjoyed just resting, thinking of Ben and listening to Van croon the day away. Dief lay on the rug beside him, his head on his paws, snoozing. Oh, yeah, he could do comfy. 

The door clicked open and then shut as Ben walked in carrying the laundry basket. Ray uncovered his eyes, still a little drowsy. He loved the view, his vision more clear than before. Ben wore faded jeans and his Henley under a blue and grey plaid flannel shirt. He made Ray's belly tighten, his cock twitch with hunger. "Hey." 

"Hello, Ray. Did you get any sleep?" 

"A little, not as much as Dief." 

"Ah, well, Diefenbaker has honed napping to a fine art." 

"Yeah. No way to beat that." Quietly, Ben put the kitchen towels away, but then came to sit in the chair at the foot of the sofa, his palms resting on his thighs. He didn't speak, just sat staring off and looking unusually tense. "What's up?" 

"Taxes are up. Lt. Welsh's blood pressure is up." 

"Cut it out. What happened? You look like the Ice Queen kicked you in the nuts." 

"Ray, that's unnecessarily crass." 

Using his right arm, Ray shifted and sat up, pulling the blanket up to his neck to keep warm. "Crass my ass. That's what you look like. You just went to the laundry room. So what happened that's got you freaked out?" 

"I assure you, I'm not freaked out." 

"Then what? Somebody rob all the machines? Put a pink sweater in with your shorts? What?" 

"Nothing of that nature occurred, Ray. I'm just endeavoring to process some things that were said." 

"Process. Shit. Somebody say something to you?" 

"Not directly, no." 

"You overheard something?" 

"Yes." 

"Jesus, I might as well be a fucking dentist." 

"I never knew you wanted to be a dentist, Ray." 

"I meant, this is like pulling teeth. What did you hear, exactly?" Ben cracked his neck and Ray got worried. "That bad?" 

"Not entirely bad, no." 

"Then what?" 

"I'm not sure." 

Ray buried his face in his blanket for about ten seconds before he tried again. "Okay, okay, just tell me what happened. Let's start with who said what." 

"Well, as you know, I don't normally go around spying on private conversations." 

"I know, but..." 

"But I put the wash in the dryer and went to the back of the room to look out the windows." 

Ray prompted. "Sure, sure. I do that. It gets boring waiting around. So, you're at the windows in the back out of sight. Then what?" 

"Well, I heard Mrs. Gomez from 2B and Mrs. Harrison from the first floor come in. As Mrs. Gomez started to load her washer, Mrs. Harrison commented that it was pretty obvious that they were together." 

"They?" 

"I came to interpret they to mean us." 

"Oh." Ray didn't want to hear the rest, but figured he'd better. "Then what?" 

"Mrs. Harrison said that she didn't like the idea of having, I quote, 'two fags in the building even if they are cops', unquote." 

"Fags? She called us fags?" 

"I'm afraid so, yes." 

"Bitch." 

"Now, Ray." 

"Don't, now Ray me, not about this. She's got no right to say shit like that." 

"There is the concept of free speech." 

"What about live and let live and stay out of my fucking business?" 

Ben didn't look up, but shrugged. "Mrs. Gomez did make a similar point, though not quite in such a colorful way. I don't believe Mrs. Harrison was happy about it." 

"Fuck Mrs. Harrison. I can't believe that. Hell, I can't believe she's even doing laundry with Rita." 

Ben frowned. "Why is that?" 

"Rita's Hispanic. You should've heard the old bag when she moved in with Ricky and their two kids." 

"You're saying her discriminatory remarks extend beyond orientation to ethnicity?" 

"Yeah, I'm saying that." 

"I suppose that would explain why she left in such a disgruntled fashion when Mrs. Gomez failed to validate what she considered a supportable position." 

Even with the blanket around him, Ray shivered. "I hate this. I hate that you heard that shit." 

"I must confess, it caught me off guard. I didn't expect that kind of reaction from Mrs. Harrison." 

"Why not? You think because she's old and bakes cookies, she can't be a bigot?" 

"No, not at all. It's just that she, herself, is Asian and her husband is Caucasian. It makes it difficult to understand why she would harbor such prejudices when she has likely experienced discrimination for being in an interracial marriage." 

"Who knows? It ain't easy being Kowalski and growing up around Pollack jokes all the time." 

Ben stared at him for a moment before moving to sit beside him. "I never considered that before, Ray, that you might be victimized because of your heritage." 

"I survived." 

"Yes, but I'm sure that it hurt your feelings." 

Ray reached over and took Ben's hand, the strength of the contact reassuring. "Sure, but no more than you probably went through being the only white kid for miles around." 

"Kilometers." 

"Same difference." 

"Well, actually, Ray, the conversion..." 

"Fraser, you're missing the point." 

"No, Ray, I'm not." Ben squeezed his hand and then kissed it. "It's not easy being different. People aren't always very tolerant." 

"Yeah, I know." Still holding hands, not wanting to let go, Ray pushed again. "How did the thing downstairs end? Rita realize you overheard?" 

"Unfortunately, yes." 

"Damn." 

"It was embarrassing at first, but Mrs. Gomez welcomed me to the building and asked if you were feeling any better. She said she'd heard from your landlady that you'd been injured in the line of duty. She wished you well." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, and she even apologized for Mrs. Harrison's unfortunate remarks, though, of course, it's not her place to do so." 

"It was nice of her, though." 

"Yes." 

"So, it's a split decision." 

Ben glanced sideways, confused. "Split decision?" 

"Half and half, fifty/fifty, one for us and one against. It could be worse." Ray laced his fingers through Ben's as he still held on to his hand, still refusing to let go. "So, why'd you get so upset?" 

"I suppose it was a number of factors." 

"Such as?" 

"I didn't expect to be the subject of gossip." 

Ray snorted and then sighed as he leaned over and rested his head on Ben's shoulder. "You don't think people talk about you?" 

"Oh, I'm sure they do. I just don't expect to be privy to it." 

"Good thing. Your ears might fall off." 

"I find that hard to believe, Ray." 

"Believe it. Sometimes I have to leave the break room when Frannie and some of the others get on a roll." Ben's ears pinked up on cue. "See? And you don't even know what they said." 

"I would prefer ignorance on that front, Ray." 

"Good thing. Might make your head too big for your hat." 

Ben got even more pink but relaxed slightly. "I don't really care what people think of me, Ray, honestly, but I do worry about what they think and say about you. People see more than we think." 

"And you think if women in the laundry room have picked up on us, it's going to be hell trying to keep it from a room of crack detectives." 

"Something like that, yes." 

"Good point." They stayed quiet for a few moments as Ben shifted and put an arm around Ray's shoulders. After a while, Ray whispered, "I don't care what they think. I won't give this up." 

"Neither will I." 

"We just have to be more careful, that's all, make sure we keep the clues to a minimum. No public displays of affection. We work the cases like always, argue like always, keep up the show." 

"That would be wise, yes." 

Palming his hand over Ben's heart, Ray shut his eyes and snuggled in. "But only in public, Ben. In private, no pretending, lots of displays of affection." 

"Understood, Ray." 

"Good." 

Ray drifted as Ben held him, kissing his eyelids tenderly, almost more gently than Ray could bear without weeping. 

* * *

Ray woke slowly, his head resting in Ben's lap as he lay stretched out on the couch. He sighed and stayed put, his eyes still closed. "You make a great pillow." 

"Thank you kindly, Ray." 

"Bored much?" 

"On the contrary. I find watching you sleep fascinating." 

"You are unhinged." 

"Possibly, but I'm enjoying the condition." 

"They say crazies are like that, happy being loony. Don't even know they're nuts." 

Ben petted Ray's hair as he spoke quietly. "I find reality such a relative state, Ray. Who's to say who is totally sane? If enough people believe a thing to be true, does that make the belief the reality or is reality changed?" 

"Hope you're not waiting for an answer." 

"Not at all. Since my spiritual encounters with my father, I've found myself needing to ask more questions of that nature." 

"I'll bet." Ray finally opened his eyes and then let Ben help him sit up. He held his head, the dizziness unexpected. "Whoa." 

"Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, just sat up too fast. Thought this part was over." 

"Perhaps you should go to bed. It's after eleven." 

"I just woke up." 

"Still..." 

"I'm fine." More settled, Ray shifted and got comfortable. "I want to ask you something." 

"What?" 

"We haven't talked about what happened yet." 

"Are you referring to what happened at the warehouse?" 

"I'm talking about what happened before that, when we, you know?" Ray made a sliding motion with his hand to explain his you know. 

Fraser flushed slightly pink and then cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. "Are you referring to our sexual encounter?" 

"Yeah." Fraser crossed his arms and Ray tilted his head as he saw all the signs of his partner closing off. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong, Ray. I just don't know what there is to discuss." 

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were embarrassed." 

"I most certainly am not." 

"Then what's the problem?" 

"There is no problem." 

"And Mounties don't wear red. Come on, you're uptight all of a sudden. What's wrong?" 

Ben closed his eyes and sighed. "It's not easy for me to talk about sex, Ray." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

Ray eased a little sideways on the sofa, holding his ribs, to get a better view of his partner. "You can do it, suck me off, lick me all over, but you can't talk about it?" 

Pink skin suddenly went scarlet. "I'm sorry." 

"For what?" 

Ben refused to look over, to meet Ray's eyes. "I just find it difficult to talk about such things unless we're in a more intimate setting. Even then, well, I must confess, I'm more proficient with performance than exposition." 

"Wow." 

Ben's shoulders sagged as he repeated his apology. "I'm sorry." 

Ray touched his shoulder and squeezed gently. "No reason to be sorry. I think it's kind of cool." 

"Cool?" 

"Yeah, finally something you're not great at, but I'm not complaining. Nothing wrong with your performance." 

Still not looking over, Ben closed his eyes. "But I should be able to discuss it. I realize that this is something I need to overcome." 

"Would it help if we went to bed and then talked?" 

"What is it you want to talk about, Ray, specifically?" 

"I was thinking maybe we could, you know, tell each other what we like, what we want. I figure when the doctor says I can go for it again, I want to be ready." Ben dropped his face to his hands, a small groan escaping. Ray changed the subject in a hurry. "Or we could just talk about curling." 

Lifting his head, Ben turned and faced Ray. His tongue darted out and wet his lip as he considered his words carefully. "Ray, if we talk about sexual appetites, I can't promise not to become aroused." 

Ray wanted to laugh in relief, but he settled for smiling. He didn't have an uptight, repressed Mountie. He had a horny one, instead. Way to go, Ray. "Are you saying you're afraid of getting turned on?" 

"Well, yes." 

"So?" 

"Ray, you know we can't have sexual relations." 

"Yeah, but you weren't the one whacked in the head. Just because I'm on hold that doesn't mean you can't get off." Ray leaned in, his voice breathy. "In fact, I'd kind of like to see that, you all hot and bothered, right beside me, jerking off." 

Ben's eyes widened and his breath hitched. "You want to watch while I pleasure myself?" 

"Yeah, I'm one of those voyager guys." 

"You mean voyeur?" 

"Yeah, I like to watch." 

Ben gulped, his face all flushed as he took Ray's hand. "I can do that, Ray, but only on one condition." 

"What's that?" 

"That we wait." 

"Wait?" 

"Yes. If I do what you ask, it's likely that you, too, will become aroused." 

"Are you kidding? It's a sure bet." 

"It's not safe to do that." 

It was Ray's turn to groan. "Fuck. That's not fair, Ben." 

"Perhaps not, but we need to be careful." Ben kissed his hand and whispered, "Believe me, Ray, when you're able, I'll do whatever you want, whatever you desire, for your gratification." 

"But not now?" 

"No, not now." 

Ray dropped his head forward to rest against Ben's chest. "I hate this." 

"Understood, but it's only a few more days. I have every confidence that Dr. Jenson will clear you on Monday." 

"Wish I had your faith." Ray's voice got lower, more choked, "I'm scared, Ben. I keep thinking I'm going to kick the bucket and I'll miss out just when I've found what I want, what I need." 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, that's not going to happen." 

"I want to believe that." 

Ben drew him into an embrace and kissed his forehead. "You're just tired." 

"Don't sleep on the couch tonight. Come to bed with me." 

"Ray..." 

"Just to sleep. I won't start anything, promise." Ray squeezed his eyes shut, the dark voices in his head telling him to stop being a baby, to stop begging. 

Ben didn't say a word, just stood up and drew Ray to his feet. They walked together to the bedroom as Ray told the voices to shut up and fuck off. 

* * *

"Not bad." Ray wiped his mouth as he finished off his homemade chicken soup. 

"Thank you kindly, Ray. It's my grandmother's recipe. Of course, her ingredients called for arctic tern instead of chicken, but..." 

"But you go with what you've got, right?" 

"Correct." 

"I like the noodles extra thick like this, too. Plus, it helps that I can smell again. Having a broken nose is hell on trying to taste stuff." Ben got up and took the bowls to the sink as someone knocked on door. Ray frowned. "We expectin' company?" 

"I suggest we find out." 

"Think I'll take a trip to the can." 

"Ray..." 

"What?" 

"Let's see who it is first." 

"I don't want to see anybody." And he didn't. He'd successfully avoided Welsh, Frannie, and everybody else ever since he'd gotten out of the hospital. He didn't want to talk about work or life outside the apartment, not to mention he hated people seeing him when he looked like shit, half his head shaved and his face still busted up. 

Before Ray could get up to leave, Ben answered the door. "Ah, Mrs. Kowalski." 

"Constable Fraser." The words cut the air, brittle and cold. "I'm here to see, Ray." 

Ben stood straighter, his formal face in place as he stepped back and gave her room to enter. "Please, come inside. Ray, you have a visitor." 

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that. Hey, Stella." The voices in his head ran around in a quick panic, wondering what the hell his ex-wife wanted, wondering how much ass he'd be left with when she got done chewing it off. 

"Ray. God, you look terrible." 

"Thanks, Stell. Makes me feel so much better to hear that." 

Stella stood there a few awkward moments before she stepped closer. "I need to talk to you, Ray. Alone." 

"Gee, Stella. Rude much?" 

Ben held up a hand. "It's all right, Ray, I need to walk Diefenbaker." 

"You sure?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Thanks." 

"No problem, Ray." Ben grabbed his coat from the closet and motioned for Dief to follow. "Diefenbaker, let's go." The wolf looked first at Fraser, then Ray, and then back to Fraser before yipping a quick refusal. He shifted to sit up next to Ray's leg, suddenly very protective. 

Ray patted his furry friend's head. "Go on, Dief. It's okay. She doesn't bite. Much." 

Reluctantly, Diefenbaker got up and went out the door with Ben. As soon as it clicked shut, Stella started in. "You want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?" 

"Oh, by the way, I'm fine, Stella. Gee, thanks for asking." 

She slipped off her coat and put her purse down on the kitchen table. "Don't try to make me feel guilty for not coming to the hospital or dropping by earlier. Lt. Welsh kept me apprised of your condition." 

"Why bother?" 

"Look, I didn't trust myself not to rip your head off when I heard about that crazy stunt you and that man pulled." 

"That man? You mean Fraser?" 

"Ever since you've took this damn Vecchio job, he's done nothing but put you in danger." 

"Yeah, like I never did that myself." 

"Not like this." 

"Come on, Stell. Me getting hurt, that's got nothing to do with Fraser." 

"Oh, stop it, Ray. Don't defend him. He's a menace. It's like he thinks he's invincible. His case files read like a bad movie." She crossed her arms, her face all twisted up like when she got ready to fight. "It was bad enough you used to pull this kind of shit when we were married, but you're worse now. I swear, every morning I'm shocked to hear you're still breathing." 

"Yeah, me, too." 

Her face softened. "Ray, seriously, are you all right?" 

"I'm fine, Stella, really. I got clobbered pretty good and the doctor just wants me to rest up and take it easy." 

Her lips tightened. "Ms. Vecchio told me you might need surgery." 

"Frannie's got a big mouth." 

"She's concerned. So am I, which brings me to why I'm here. I talked to your mother." 

"Fuck." Ray got up and moved to the sofa, his head falling back against the cushion as he fought down his temper. "Tell me you didn't tell her about this." 

"I thought she already knew. Barbara has a right to know when you're hurt like this, Ray. What if something happened?" 

"I didn't want her to worry." 

"She's your mother. She worries when you don't call." 

"I meant to." 

"But you knew she'd know you were lying if she asked how you were?" 

"She always does." 

Stella stepped closer, her arms still crossed. "Well, she knows now and she's upset. You have to call her." 

"Yeah, okay, okay, I'll call." 

Settling into the chair by the sofa, Stella leaned in, a hand on his knee. "You promise?" 

"I promise." 

"Good. Now, I need to say something and I know you're going to get pissed, Ray, but I have to say it anyway. It's important." 

God, Ray hated when she talked to him like he was six. "What?" 

"I want to talk to Lt. Welsh about keeping Constable Fraser away from you." 

"What?" 

"I said..." 

"I heard what the fuck you said, Stella." 

She removed her hand in a hurry. "Don't snap." 

Ray bit his lower lip and prayed he didn't say something worse. "Look, Fraser's more than my partner. He's my friend. He's saved my life more times than I can count." 

"Only because he got you in trouble in the first place. What is it with you two? All you need are the damn capes. You're not superheroes. You can't outrun bullets or speeding trains, or in this case even a lead pipe." 

"Don't start." 

"Don't start? Don't start? You're the one with his head bashed in, Ray. You're the one who might have to have brain surgery and who knows what else." She stood up and paced the room, her arms around herself again. "I know we're not married anymore, but I still care about you, more than you care about yourself it seems like." 

"You're wrong about this." 

"Am I? Are you saying you would've been in that warehouse getting beaten up in if he hadn't taken you there on some wild goose chase?" 

"I love him." 

Stella went stone still. "What?" 

Ray swallowed hard, not sure if he could breathe. Finally, he said it again. "I love him." 

Her mouth fell open as realization hit. "Oh, Ray." 

"I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it." 

"Why do you do this to yourself, fall for all the wrong people?" 

"I fell for you." 

"My point, exactly." 

Ray leaned forward, his head down, his eyes closed. "You can't tell anybody about this, Stella." 

"You think they'd believe me, my macho ex-husband and a Mountie? Jesus." 

"I'm serious." 

"I know." 

Her unexpectedly soft voice brought his head up. "You know?" 

"I've known for some time. I thought I might be able to stop it, but I guess I'm too late. Hell, I was probably too late the first time he put your life in danger, that first time when you two drove that burning car into the lake. I see the way you look at him at the station." Her voice choked. "You used to look at me like that." 

"Yeah, yeah, I did, but you stopped looking back, Stella. What was I supposed to do, be lonely for the rest of my life?" 

"No, but, Jesus, Ray, the Mountie?" 

"He's a good guy." 

"I'm sure he is for a Canadian, but, Ray, he's a man." 

"I noticed." 

"Your dad's going to have a fit." 

"I'm not telling my dad or anyone else for that matter, at least not until this whole Vecchio thing is over." 

Calmer, Stella sat down again, her hands together. "Is he going to move in here or has he already done that?" 

"He's just helping out for now. We both know we have to be careful." 

"Then why tell me?" 

"I trust you and I need you to know why you can't tell Welsh to split us up." 

"Even if it'd be safer for both of you, even more so now than before?" 

"What do you mean, more so now?" 

"The more you're together, the more likely it is that people will figure it out. Face it, Ray, you're not good at hiding your feelings." 

"Around you, yeah." 

"Around anybody. How do you expect to keep this kind of secret working with police officers day in and day out? And if someone finds out, then what? You're supposed to be Vecchio, and last I heard, Vecchio's anything but gay." 

"We'll work it out." Ray leaned in closer, meeting his ex-wife's blue eyes. "Don't try to split us up. You do, and I'll fight you every step of the way, every inch, tooth and nail. I won't lose him, not because you think it's too dangerous. That's just part of the job. Fraser's my partner." 

Stella sighed heavily and then stood up. "It's your life, Ray. I won't do or say anything about Fraser." 

"Thanks, Stell." 

"Don't thank me. I'm not doing you any favors. Besides, I don't need the fallout." 

"Fallout." 

"You don't think I'd get a major pity factor if it got out that my ex-husband turned gay?" 

"Never thought about that." 

The crisp, hateful tone came back with a vengeance. "I'm sure you didn't." 

"I didn't fall for him to hurt you." 

"Just don't hurt yourself, Ray. It's a bad choice." 

"It's my choice." 

She met his gaze for a few moments and nodded. "Yes, it is." She got her coat from the back of the chair, slipped it on, and picked up her purse. "Call your mother tonight." 

"Yeah, I will." 

"Good." 

Hesitating, Stella stood by the door for only a moment and then left without saying goodbye. Ray swallowed hard and then got up to lock the door. Just as he did, he lost his balance and swayed sideways. He caught and steadied himself against the wall. Before he reached the door, it opened and Diefenbaker and Ben stood right there. Strong arms gathered him up, holding him tight. "Ray, are you all right?" 

"As long as you're here, yeah." 

"Let's sit down." 

"Let's not, not this second. Just hold me." Ben held him even closer, Ray's eyes squeezed shut as he confessed in a whisper. "I told her." 

"I thought you might." 

"You're not mad?" 

"No." 

"Not even a little?" 

"I wish you'd told me first, but I'm not angry, Ray." 

"She wanted to split us up." 

"Ah." 

"Yeah, so I had to tell her." Ray lifted his head and caught Ben's worried expression. "She promised not to tell." 

"And you trust her?" 

"About this? Yeah. And you're right, I should've asked. It just came out." 

"It's fine." Ben cupped his face, leaned in, and kissed him briefly before pulling back. "You need to sit down. You're pale." 

"Yeah, yeah, I feel pale. Stella does that to me sometimes." 

"Makes you pale?" 

"Yeah, sometimes." Ben helped him to the sofa and Ray leaned against him, wrapped in his arms. "It's funny." 

"What?" 

"She said she already knew." 

"You think she did?" 

"She didn't seem shocked." 

"Uhm." 

"What's uhm?" 

"I'm just surprised by her reaction." 

"Me, too. I thought she'd hit the roof, but she didn't. She just doesn't think we're right together." 

Ben shrugged, but didn't ease his embrace. "I'm sure she doesn't." 

"She thinks...anyway, it doesn't matter what she thinks." 

"She thinks I'm a bad influence." 

Ray nodded. "Yeah, well, she doesn't know I'm the one who's the bad influence. I'm the one who wanted you." 

"Nonsense, Ray. I wanted you first." 

"I did." 

"No, I assure you that my feelings for you have been in place for quite some time." 

Ray smiled and took a deep breath. "Yeah, well, as soon as I'm well, we can be a bad influence on each other. How's that?" 

Ben chuckled and kissed him before he whispered, "As you wish." 

* * *

Ray put the receiver down, his hand still trembling. He closed his eyes and then shook his head. "Shit." 

"What, Ray?" 

"My mum." 

"I take it she was upset." 

"She was crying." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. We should've called her sooner." 

"Not we, me. I told you not to call. It's not your fault." 

"Still." 

Ray snapped, "My call, not yours." 

When Ben didn't answer, Ray turned in the chair, careful not to move too quickly to jar his ribs. "Sorry." 

Ben patted the cushion beside him. "Come sit over here, Ray. Relax." 

Ray made his way over and then leaned sideways against Ben as he spoke quietly. "He's right. I'm a selfish bastard." 

"Who called you that?" 

"My dad. When I graduated from the academy, that's what he said before he walked out and headed out to Arizona. Fuck. I made my mum cry. I'm such a shit." 

Ben wrapped his arms around Ray and pulled him into a hug. "You're none of those things, Ray. You explained to your mother that you didn't want to worry her." 

"Which she called a crock." 

"You can understand why she would, Ray. If something happened to you and no one called me, I'd be upset as well." 

"I said I was sorry." 

"I'm sure she's glad you're alive." 

"She wants me to quit." 

Ben stiffened. "What?" 

"She says she's got some money. She wants me to quit being a cop and go back to school. Offered to pay for it." 

"And what did you say?" 

Ray lifted his head, wondering if Ben had lost his marbles or what. "You listened in. What do you think?" 

"I really did try not to eavesdrop." 

"But you did." 

"It was difficult not to overhear." 

"And what did you overhear, Mr. Bat Ears Mountie?" 

"I suppose that was when you told her to keep her money and buy a new couch." 

"The one she has is lumpy as hell, sort of like my head sometimes." 

Ben squeezed him gently and then took a deep breath. "She was trying to be helpful." 

"Trying to run my life. She's always pushing for Stella and me to get back together. She's got this idea in her head that we should get married again and have a house full of kids so she can play grandma even though she knows how Stella feels about kids. And she always wanted me to be a teacher or businessman or something like that, anything but a cop." 

"I thought it was your father who was so adamant about you not being a police officer." 

"Yeah, but for a whole different reason. Mum's just scared. She's afraid I'm going to get knocked off." 

"A reasonable fear for a mother of anyone in law enforcement." 

"Or firefighting, or search and rescue, or the military. You can't go around worrying about shit like that or you start second guessing and then you'll really be in trouble. I couldn't stand being a desk jockey all day, nothing but paperwork. It's just not what I'm about, what I want." 

"I understand completely." 

"Yeah, I know. We're junkies, you and me." 

Startled, Ben looked confused. "Excuse me?" 

"Adrenalin. We go out of our way to get a fix. Admit it. You love the chase, the fights, the whole run for your life stuff." 

Shrugging, Ben relaxed a bit more. "I can't deny there is a thrill to capturing and bringing miscreants to justice." 

"It's more than that. Fuck, Ben, face it, we'd both do this shit for free. We just don't ever tell anybody." 

"You think so?" 

"Hell, with what we get paid, we practically do it for nothing anyway." 

"That does often seem to be the case. Though, I must confess that before Chicago, my needs were simpler and far less expensive." 

"Before the doughnuts and pizzas to feed the wolf?" 

Ben grinned. "Before that, yes." 

Ray relaxed in Ben's arms, pushing away the lingering stress from his conversation with his mother. "What's the cost of living like up in Canada?" 

"Cost of living?" 

"Yeah, you know, if we got a place up there after you get transferred back, how much is it going to set us back? I doubt they've got much need for an ex-cop up north. Might take me a little while to find a decent job that suits me, something that will let us be together. But I've got some savings and I've got whatever I paid into my retirement." 

"You want to live in Canada permanently?" 

Ray pulled away enough to see Ben's face. "Well, yeah. If I'm jumping the gun here, just tell me." 

"No, not at all." 

"Then why do you look like Frannie just planted a big sloppy kiss on you in the squad room?" 

"I supposed because I didn't expect you to be thinking about it in such detail, as if..." 

"As if it might really happen? Yeah, why not? I like thinking about it." 

Ben frowned and then shook his head. "But you just told your mother you didn't want to give up being a police officer." 

"To go back to school, no, I don't. To move to Canada with you, no problem. There are a lot of things I can do, Ben. I'm a good cop, but I can do all kinds of stuff that'll let me still get a taste of the action." 

Cupping his face, Ben leaned in and kissed him, his tongue sneaking in quickly before he pulled back. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Now, answer the question, what's the cost of living like? You get free moose burgers if you shoot the moose?" 

Laughing, Ben embraced him and settled back against the sofa. "Depends on where I'm posted. In remote areas, game is quite plentiful. In the more urban areas, well, it would be much like here. As a member of the RCMP, I'd be given service quarters for myself. Or I could rent something local on my own with a stipend." 

"Service quarters suck?" 

"It never much mattered before, but for the both of us, yes, it would be insufficient. Most of the married members either buy a home or rent during their postings." 

Ray shifted to rest his back against Ben's chest, Ben's arm wrapped around his neck. He relaxed and closed his eyes, soaking up the heat radiating off his partner's body. He liked the sound of that, married members. Yeah, he could go with that. "So, you think people would have a problem with you dragging your American partner along from post to post?" 

Ben took several seconds before he answered. "I keep my private life separate from my work, Ray. With whom I cohabit is none of their business." 

"You didn't answer the question. You think there'll be a problem?" 

"I don't really know. Each post is different. In my experience, most commanders don't make it an issue as long as the officer does his or her duty. However, I'm not blind to the exceptions. I know it's very difficult to maintain the right when your colleagues ostracize you, regardless of the reasons." 

"Like breaking the code and turning in one of your own even if the son of a bitch is guilty as sin?" 

"Even then, yes." 

Ray stroked Ben's almost hairless forearm. "You did the right thing. It must have been hard to get kicked in the gut because of it." 

Ben didn't answer right away. After a few moments, he choked out an answer. "You have no idea, Ray. All my life, I dreamed of only one thing, to be like my father, to be as good as he was. When he was killed, it never occurred to me to do anything but find the killers. I didn't care who they were, because it shouldn't matter. Even when I found out that it was Gerard, that my father had been betrayed by his friends for profit, I couldn't stop. I told myself the consequences didn't matter." 

"You saying you regret turning them in?" 

"No, I'd do nothing different. What I regret is the disappointment. I expected more from the service, more than being shunned for doing my duty." 

"I'd be pissed." 

"The anger came after the hurt. Now, I simply accept it." 

"It sucks. What they did was shitty, but I've seen it before. You turn in a dirty cop and they treat a guy like he's worse than the scumbag who did the crime. Doesn't matter that the crime's murder or even hurting another cop. The guy becomes a leopard or something." 

"You mean leper?" 

"Yeah, that, like he's a disease. It's not right, never has been." 

"Agreed." 

They remained quiet for a little while until Ray whispered, "I feel guilty." 

"About what?" 

"About being glad you got stuck here. I know it was kind of a punishment deal, kind of like being banished from the magical kingdom, but if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have you now. I suck." 

Ben kissed the top of his head and squeezed his arm around Ray's neck with affection. "Then I suck, too. You've provided me great fortune in a time of unjust exile and delivered me from a very dark time in my life." 

"Then you're okay with being here until they're ready to take you back?" 

"More than okay, Ray. As long as we're together, the setting doesn't matter." 

Ray smiled as he teased his partner. "So, you'd be happy stuck on a mountaintop as long as you had me?" 

"Yes, Ray." 

"What about the bottom of the deep, blue sea?" 

"Most certainly." 

"In the desert?" 

"Absolutely." 

Ray laughed as Ben kissed the side of his neck for emphasis. "I like this game." Suddenly more breathy, his voice husky, he whispered, "Let's go to bed." 

"Ray..." 

"You said anywhere." 

"I did." 

"So, let's get naked and just cuddle." 

"Not naked." 

"Why not?" 

"You know why not." 

"Oh, yeah, head injury. Okay, okay, we'll just cuddle." 

"Why don't I believe that?" 

"Beats me." Ray couldn't stop his stupid grin. "Experience?" 

"Seriously, Ray. We're safer right here." 

"Safe's no fun." 

"Perhaps, but you'll get no cuddle unless you promise to behave." 

"Spoilsport." 

"I'm trying to be reasonable, something I think you've forgotten completely." 

"Wet blanket." 

"Ray..." 

"Party pooper." 

Sighing deeply, Ben hugged him and rested his forehead on Ray's shoulder. "We can't risk it, Ray. I can't risk it. Please, stop." 

Ray reached up behind him and patted Ben's head in sympathy and just a smidgeon of regret for teasing so hard. "Okay, okay. I'll be good." 

Ben lifted his head enough to lick Ray's ear before he whispered, "We'll both be good, but when you're well, we'll be even better." 

Ray shuddered, touched by the sexual heat and promise from the lips of his partner. God, he couldn't wait to be better. 

* * *

"I need a big hat." 

Ben turned from the sink and looked over at Ray running his hand back and forth over his remaining hair. "You could wear mine." 

"Oh, yeah, like that would make the butchered look less noticeable." 

Ben dried his hands, walked over to the sofa, and stood there. "You could get a baseball cap. You've worn one of those before without people commenting too harshly." 

"Yeah, or I could just get a buzz cut all over. At least then, it would grow back even." 

Ben reached out, touching the remaining soft hair and shook his head. "Please, don't." 

Ray glanced up, surprised by the power and conviction behind those words. "You really like the hair, huh?" 

Ben's hand slipped down, caressing Ray's cheek, his thumb stroking the lower lip. "I like the hair. I like you." 

"Just like?" 

"Oh, much more than like, Ray." 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, yes." 

Ray smiled and captured Ben's hand, drawing him down on the sofa with him. "Guess the hair stays." 

"Good." 

"I've got a couple of caps. That'll work, at least until it grows long enough to cover the scar." A wave of sadness washed over him and Ray sagged back against Ben, his eyes closed. He loved the way Ben's arms came around him automatically, no asking, no coaxing. Nothing like the whole dance with Stella, having to work up to it and hope she was in the right mood. None of that mattered with Ben. Ray needed a hug, Ray got a hug. Simple. 

"What's wrong, Ray?" 

"Nothin'." 

"Ray, your hair will look fine, aggressive as ever. It grows very fast." 

"I'm not worried about the hair." 

"Then what?" 

"I've been thinking I need to call Drew Chandler." 

"Drew Chandler?" 

"My lawyer." 

"Why do you need to call your lawyer?" 

"I need to change my will and I want to give you my power of attorney in case something happens." 

"You have a will?" 

"Of course I have a will. I'm a cop. All cops have a will. What? You think I don't have enough sense to have a will?" 

"Not at all. I...I'm sorry. It's just you've always been squeamish about such matters." 

"Just because I don't lick boots in the morgue or get turned on by corpses, doesn't mean I can't deal with the reality of being a cop. I got a will and I need to update it, make it right, put you in it." 

Ben's arms tightened and he sighed, his voice tired and strained. "Ray, you're going to be fine." 

"Even if I am okay this time, what about next time?" When Ben didn't answer right away, Ray sat up and turned. "What? You think it's a bad idea?" 

"No, Ray, I don't think it's a bad idea. I was considering a similar course of action myself. I just hadn't decided whether I should broach the subject at this juncture." 

"Afraid to upset me?" 

"Frankly, yes." 

"You think I'm being morbid about all this?" 

"I think you're concerned. That's only natural." 

Ray nodded and bit his lower lip. "It's just, I've let things go when I shouldn't. Stella's still my beneficiary on the life insurance and if something happened, say I was on life support and somebody had to decide whether to pull the plug, that would fall to my mum and dad. I don't want that." His mouth dry, Ray forced himself to keep talking. "It's a lot to ask, but I want you to be the one who makes that decision. I want you to be the one who takes care of things if they have to be done." 

"Understood. I feel the same way, Ray." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes. I don't want to live on life support, Ray. To me that's not living." 

"Same here. I can't make it on my own, there's no hope, then just let me go, adios, sayonara, hey, hit the highway. My mum could never do that and she shouldn't have to." 

"No, she shouldn't." 

"So, you think it's a good idea?" 

"Yes, I think it's wise." 

Relieved, Ray took a deep breath and snuggled back in to Ben's arms. "I was afraid you'd be freaked out." 

"Why?" 

"It was stupid. You'd never get freaked over something like this. Me, I'm the one who goes nuts, the one who hates thinking about all this shit. It scares me to think about dying, so I just try not to." 

"It's part of life, Ray." 

"Yeah, the worst part, over and out, doneski, the part I want to skip." 

"To a degree, I used to feel that way." 

"Yeah?" 

"Until my father." 

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Ray smiled, his nerves a little more settled. "You think there's something to this whole afterlife thing?" 

"Either that or I'm unhinged completely. I must confess my own trepidation from time to time when I consider our mortal condition, but then after my father started making unscheduled appearances, that changed. Now, I see more clearly the possibility of other planes of existence. I think it's very likely that we live on after death." 

"Together." 

"Possibly." 

"Ever seen your mum?" 

"No, not yet." 

"So your dad's not with your mum?" 

"Apparently not." 

"That sucks." 

Ben shrugged but didn't let go. "That's not to say they won't be reunited eventually." 

"Meanwhile, your old man walks around looking?" 

"Or meddling, as the case may be." 

Ray chuckled to himself. "You're still pissed about what he said about us." 

"Well, he can be extremely irritating, Ray. Despite that, I must say that seeing him from time to time does make it easier to accept the inevitable." 

"I'd still like to skip that part." 

"Agreed." 

* * *

Ray entered the apartment, no stitches, no headache, walking steadier than he had for over a week. He took off his coat as Dief ran right past him through the door and Ben stood beside him. "I told you you'd be fine, Ray." 

Hanging up his coat, Ray argued, "Do not do that, do not say I told you so." 

"But I did." 

"You're not supposed to go around saying, I told you so, all cocky, all smug like that. That's so not Canadian, so not Mountie-like." 

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way." Ben grinned and pulled Ray into his arms as he whispered, "But I told you so." He kissed him gently at first, but then deepened it, slipping his tongue in, hot and demanding. Ray played his own tongue game a little bit before they parted. 

"Bed, Ben." 

Ben chuckled as he allowed Ray to grab his hand and drag him toward the bedroom. "You're obsessed. You actually asked the doctor if we could have sex." 

"Hey, you don't know if you don't ask." 

"What if he'd said no?" 

"But he didn't." 

"But if he had?" 

Ray stood at the end of his bed and pulled off his sweater and T-shirt, the bruises over his sore ribs yellowing. "Then I'm sure you would've made me suffer through it." Ray stepped over to his still fully clothed partner and growled. "God, I'm so fucking glad he said it was okay." 

"As long as we're conservative." 

Ray laughed, "Yeah, I can't believe he said no swinging on the chandeliers for another week or two. The guy's a riot, like he thinks a cop can afford chandeliers." 

"I'm serious, Ray. He said that we shouldn't be overly strenuous." 

"He said I shouldn't get too wild, but there's nothing holding you back." 

Ray ground his crotch against Ben's, his erection obvious. "Ray..." 

"Stop talking, start taking your clothes off." Ray loved how Ben's eyes darkened, the pupils so large that the blue almost disappeared, made just a bright ring around the black. "Come on, Ben. Get naked and show me how you like it." 

"With pleasure." Ben never took his eyes off Ray, always staring all hungry-like as he stripped off. 

Ray sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back, enjoying the show. "That's the way, fast and furious." 

Standing there completely nude, Ben held his arms out. "Like what you see, Ray?" 

Mouth dry, Ray swallowed hard and then nodded. "God, you look hot." And he did, all creamy smooth skin over finely toned muscle, all sculpted, almost too perfect, like nobody Ray had ever seen except in old art books at school. Even his cock looked different, thick and uncut, surrounded by that dark bush, not like Ray's at all. Ray held out a hand. "Get over here." 

Ben stepped closer. "No fair, Ray. You're still partially dressed." 

"Yeah, I guess you oughta do something about that, Ben." 

"Indeed, I should." 

Ben kneeled and took off Ray's boots first and then reached up to unbutton and unzip. Ray's air thinned at the touch, at the tug that took off his jeans and shorts at the same time. His ribs complained, but not enough to make him slow down or stop. He wanted this, wanted it bad, like he'd been waiting for fucking forever. Lying back on the bed naked, his legs spread, he cupped the back of Ben's head and drew him up and over his body. He loved the weight pressing down, not too heavy, but enough to make his cock leak. Even Ben's smell turned him on, sort of like leather and polish, fresh pine in the woods. 

"God, I love you so much." 

"I love you, too, Ray." With those words, Ben captured his mouth, enslaved it with his tongue. Hot and powerful, moving in and out, all around. Ben's cock lined up with Ray's and Ben set up a rhythm, a friction between them, rocking Ray's body with his own. Fire zapped his spine, his cock and balls burning as Ben shoved against him. Ben's mouth roved to the side of his neck and Ray moaned as Ben alternated between kissing and biting, the sensation like nothing he'd ever imagined, wild and buzzy all over his skin. He couldn't get enough, his arms wrapped around Ben, holding on, letting Ben do all the work. He rode the wave as it hit him, just threw his brain into a tailspin, his heart pounding. The world snapped, his back arched, release like a silk hammer to his crotch. 

Then Ben jerked hard before he stilled and collapsed, both men holding on with all their might, eyes squeezed shut. Air wheezed into Ray's lungs, but just barely. "Sweet Jesus, Ben." 

"Dear Lord." 

Ray wanted to laugh, but didn't have enough oxygen to risk it. After a few moments, Ben lifted his head and then licked a trail along Ray's throat. "You're so beautiful." 

"And you're so heavy," Ray whispered the complaint with a smile. 

Ben rolled off, but never lost contact, his arms around Ray. "I wanted to go slow." 

"Next time." 

"Right you are, Ray. Next time." 

Ray relaxed, his body still humming with heat as he lay against the furnace that was his partner. "God, that was great." 

"Wasn't it? I usually like to take things slow, but, God, Ray, what you do to me." 

Chuckling, Ray buried his face against Ben's sweaty bare chest. "Same here, buddy." 

Ben reached over to get the wipes he'd put on the side table earlier, taking care to clean them both. "We need to get under the covers. You'll get chilled." 

Muscles still weak from coming, Ray let Ben shift him under the blanket and then relaxed completely, his head resting on Ben's chest. Lazy and content, he flicked his tongue out to taste salty skin. Ben's breath hitched as he shuddered. "Ray..." 

"What? You're not the only guy who can lick stuff." 

Ben's hand rested on the back of Ray's head. "I'm not complaining." 

"Good." 

Ray suckled a nipple and Ben whimpered. "Like that?" 

"God, yes." 

"Thought so. Don't call me a detective for nothing." 

"I should think not." 

"Don't think. Just feel." Ray shifted all the better to lick and nip at Ben's nubs. He loved how Ben's breath got all raspy and his whole body shivered as Ray took care with each one. He drew it up between his teeth, not biting, but not quite gentle. Ben's cock twitched as it tried to recover. "Just relax. I like this." 

Ben didn't answer, just moaned deeper, his hand stroking the back of Ray's neck pressing just a little bit to encourage him to continue. Ray chuckled, low and throaty, "Oh, yeah, you like this a lot." 

"Ray, please." 

"Please what?" 

"Your mouth." 

"My mouth?" Ray teased Ben's belly button with his finger. "You want my mouth?" 

"Please." 

The beg went straight to Ray's dick, the need so strong, it made him want Ben to fuck him, to push inside and just do what he'd been dreaming about for ages. The intense honesty of the thought startled him and he went still. Ben lifted his head, confused. "What?" 

"Nothing. Sorry." 

"Ray, what's wrong?" 

Ray cleared his throat, his mind reeling with the reality of what he really needed. "I want you to fuck me." Ben's mouth fell open and Ray laughed out loud. "Jesus, you look like I asked you to sock me." 

Gathering his composure, Ben took several deep breaths. "Are you sure?" 

"I'm very sure. I've dreamed about this, about you doing me." 

"But have you ever actually had anal intercourse?" 

The term really turned him off, shut down the revival of his dick real fast. "Don't call it that." 

"You prefer fucking over anal intercourse?" 

"Well, yeah. When you say anal intercourse, it sounds so clinical, kind of cold, like you're talking about something else." 

Still lying on his back, Ben cupped Ray's face as he studied him. "I suppose it does. Still, you didn't answer the question. Have you ever had someone do that to you?" 

Ray pulled away, unable to meet Ben's gaze. He rested his head on Ben's chest again. "Not exactly." 

"What does that mean, not exactly?" 

"I've done it to myself a few times." 

"Done it to yourself?" 

"Yeah, you know, with a sex toy." 

"Sex toy? I'm sorry, Ray, I'm not sure I understand. They make toys for sex?" 

"Okay, okay, it was a dildo, a rubber dick, okay?" 

"Ah, I see." 

Ray rubbed his whiskers against Ben's tender belly. "You see what?" 

Ben's fingers played with the back of Ray's neck. "I see you like anal stimulation." 

"Yeah, yeah, I do. Stella called me a perv." 

"Ray." 

"Yeah?" 

"Would you please not mention your ex-wife when we're in bed?" 

"Oh, sure. Sorry." 

"And it's not a perversion to enjoy such activities." 

"I know, it's just, well, you know." 

"Yes, I do." 

Ben hugged him closer and kissed the top of his bald spot, right along the stitch line. "I'd like very much to make love to you, Ray." 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, yes. How would you like me to do it?" 

Ray lifted his head, his stomach tight with anticipation. "You want me to draw you a picture?" 

Smiling, Ben shook his head. "With your ribs, I'd say on your stomach." 

"Ass up?" 

"If you like." 

"Oh, yeah, I like." Ray rolled over onto his belly, the pillows lifting his hips a little higher. He spread his legs as Ben kneeled between them, running his fingers up and down Ray's spine and between his cheeks. Ray shuddered involuntarily, the touch electric. "Oh, yeah, nice." 

Ben stretched out and covered his back, his half hard cock resting against his ass. His mouth devoured Ray's neck, his hands sliding up and down his sides. Slowly, Ben sniffed and licked all over his shoulders, down his back, using his hands to massage his asscheeks and the inside of his thighs. When fully hard, Ben rose up and reached over to open the bedside drawer. He took out the bottle of KY Jelly and a condom. "Ben, you don't have to use a rubber." 

"Yes, I do, Ray." 

"I'm clean." 

"As am I, but there are other things to consider." 

"Like what?" 

"Such as urinary tract infections and other communicable diseases." 

"Never thought about that." 

Leaning over again, Ben kissed the back of his neck and whispered into his ear. "Believe me, Ray, it won't make a difference in your pleasure." 

"And yours?" 

"None whatsoever." 

"Good to go then." 

Ben chuckled and sat up, scooting back just enough between Ray's legs to give a good position. Slicking his fingers, he rubbed them together to warm his hands, and then ran his right index finger up and down Ray's crack. Ray jerked at the touch, the delicious fire going up his middle, his dick more than happy. Ben's finger pushed in, the burn making him want even more. He added more lubrication as he fingered Ray's ass, Ray trembling as Ben worked it in over and over, going a little deeper, rotating it to relax the tight muscle. 

Ray humped the pillow, going with the rhythm of the finger, jerking with pleasure several times as Ben massaged his prostate. Ben removed his finger and replaced it with something thicker, longer. He placed a hand on Ray's hip and used the other hand to guide his cock inside. Ray groaned, the pressure intense, more than he expected. Ben stopped and eased back. "No, don't stop." 

"Relax, Ray. I'm not stopping. Just take deep breaths." 

"Sure, sure, I can do that." As he did, Ben tried again, this time more slowly, being sure to use plenty of the lubrication, his hips shoving forward and then pulling back, going deeper with each mini-push. The world got dizzy, but with a good spin as Ben finally slid all the way in, his chest pressed against Ray's back. Ray's voice betrayed his impatience. "Do it." 

Ben didn't bother talking, just started moving, his cock pushing Ray to the edge more and more. Ben grunted and lifted Ray's hips higher, snaking a hand between the pillow and his body. He fisted Ray's cock as he matched his strokes to the thrusts into his body. The rhythm grew faster, stronger, made Ray's head swim and his body quake. His heart racing, the air like space, Ray came with an explosion of color, streamers blasting off behind his lids. His whole body jerked with release, but Ben kept pumping inside him, kept hammering his ass, aftershocks hitting him again out of nowhere. He bit back a scream, his face scraping against the sheets. 

Ben gave one last slam before stilling, his whole body one big spasm before slumping down with a umph across Ray's back. Still buried inside, Ben rubbed his whiskers against Ray's shoulder as he croaked a weak, "Dear Lord, Ray, I love you." 

Trapped beneath a spent Mountie, Ray kept his eyes closed. "Me, too, Ben. Thank god we don't have chandeliers. I'd never make it." 

Chuckling, Ben withdrew, careful to hold onto the condom. He got the wipes and gently cleaned Ray's backside and himself. He rolled Ray over and got another wipe to clean his crotch and what he could of the wet spot on the sheets. Ray snatched up a pillow, got comfortable, and watched in amusement. "Don't like sticky, huh?" 

"It only takes an extra second to avoid unpleasantness later. Plus, it's more sanitary." 

"Throw that away and c'mere." 

Ben tossed the wipe and then crawled in beside Ray, letting Ray hold him for a change. Ray kissed the top of the soft, dark hair as Ben pulled up the covers. Completely relaxed, Ray sighed, "There's no comparison." 

"Comparison?" 

"Between a sex toy and a Mountie." 

Ben's whiskers tickled Ray's chest as he laughed. "I should hope not, Ray, though I don't mind substituting." 

"You saying you want to be my permanent sex toy?" 

"If you'll have me." 

"Oh, yeah, again and again and again." 

Ray ran a contented finger along Ben's jaw, thinking about how much better life got when a guy just listened to the right voices. 

* * *

The End 


End file.
